The Essence of a Lady
by goneGrimlight
Summary: Santana Lopez is the daughter of a wealthy Englishman. When she meets the Duke's daughter, Lady Brittany, her world is turned upside down. Falling in love is perilous, and they know it... but they're willing to try.
1. Prologue

_**Author: goneGrimlight**_

_**Author's note:**__ This story is an AU historical fic, set in England in the early 1800s. I draw a lot of my inspiration from Jane Austen's novels. This is my first Brittana story, but I would be interested in doing more, and I will gladly take requests. So bear with me, and leave your thoughts on the story…_

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of Santana, Brittany, or any other Glee characters that might appear in this story. I did, however, create many of my own characters for this story (and of course the idea).  
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_*Santana's POV_

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It was a soft breeze that lifted my hair to dance gently around my face as I looked out over the hills. The sun was still low on the horizon, casting long shadows over the landscape. The grass, still coated in morning dew, glistened in the yellow light and swayed gently in the unsettled air. The sweet melodies of the singing birds filled my ears and I smiled at the beauty of the moment. This was where I loved to be. Not the bustling town, not the busy house, but here. Without all the damned _people_. I found it to be the one place I could really think, and on such mornings, I needed space.

I had awoken in a relatively good mood, but my mother's forceful manners regarding my search for a suitor had ruined it quickly. It is, more accurately, _her_ search for my suitor. I couldn't have _less _of an interest in finding myself a man to whisk me away and steal my freedom. In fact, there is nothing I would hate more than for her to find me some wealthy and bloody intolerable husband, and I had tried to make that very clear. The result of that was me having to come out here to clear my head, which is what I was doing standing in the grass.

Shaking my head, I tried to rid myself of the tirade of thoughts running through my mind and looked back out over the fields. I have, many times, considered running away and never coming back. I sighed dejectedly and turned on my heel, intending to go back to the house. My boots were wet and my feet were cold, not to mention the hem of my dress was soaking.

A few minutes later, I was back inside the house, peeling the waterlogged leather from my feet. I left my shoes in the coatroom and tried to tiptoe up the stairs before a member of my family could catch me, but alas; fortune was not in my favour. One of these days I was going to have to catch a break, wasn't I? Today obviously wasn't that day. My mother eyed me down from the bottom of the staircase, giving me a look that made me want to wither. I watched her face change from one emotion to another as she took in my appearance, first my bare feet, then to my soiled dress, then to my hair which had come out of place and now fell about my shoulders.

I must have looked quite dishevelled, and that was something my Mama could not stand. She was always the picture of elegance, not so much as a hair out of place. Her features settled on anger and she looked ready to hit something. I just hoped that something wouldn't be me.

"Mama, ah… there you are. I was just going to clean up," I tried, unable to keep the guilty look off my face. She glared up at me with even more hostility, if that was possible.

"Santana, you'll come down here right now. You look absolutely horrid! What if a young man came to the door right now, and you were dressed like this?" She gestured to all of me, emphasising her disgust.

"I couldn't care less, Mama. What you see is what you get." I quipped. This was dangerous territory – whenever I spoke out of line in her house, I was sure to be set straight, but sometimes it was truly worth it. This was one of those times – I was not about to let her win this one. "Besides, what kind of young man comes to a house this time on a Saturday morning? There's absolutely no reason whatsoever for anyone to come calling at this moment.

The universe must have had some sort of vendetta against me, because as soon as the words were out of my mouth, the bell rang. Both our heads snapped towards the door, and I knew that she was wondering the same thing. Who _would_ visit? Perhaps it was Quinn, she seemed to have no trouble showing up at any time. But, as my best friend, she had a pass of sorts to strange visiting hours.

I looked back at my mother, just in time to see her regaining her composure before moving towards the ornate darkwood entrance. She turned to me as she walked, "You will go upstairs this instant and make yourself presentable."

I couldn't help feeling very relieved as I ran up the stairs, but I still rolled my eyes for good measure, emphasising how much I didn't like to follow her orders. I began stepping quickly, picking up the front of my dress so I didn't fall. I had plenty of experiences in that regard that I would rather not repeat. And as much as I hated to admit it, I didn't like looking like a slob in front of people. My mother never failed to remind me that with our position in society, it wouldn't do to have daughters running around in bare, muddy feet. Besides, I was clearly the most attractive woman in the entire country._  
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I reached the top of the stairs in record time and moved towards my room. I caught a glimpse of my brother as I went past the upstairs drawing room. The door was slightly ajar, and I could see him sitting at the writing desk, deep in piles of paper. Morys had always been studious, unlike myself and Peter, who had loved to joke around. He was like a loyal dog, without much personality but with a whole lot of drive. Peter and I always made what were to us 'humorous comments' about him, but everyone else seemed to consider them insults. We maintained that he deserved them.

I turned away and continued down the hallway until I reached the familiar white paint and floral engraving of my door. Pushing it open, I noticed the maids must have been through whilst I was in the fields. My bed was made, with an extravagant array of pillows covering half the bed. They were comfortable, if not a little unnecessary. I made my way over to the dressing table which was nestled at the far end of the room.

I was lucky enough to get a room that looked out over the estate. I had a huge south-facing window that let me see all the way over the land, far past where I had been standing earlier. The views were breathtaking, and I relished the fact that no other member of my family had a bedroom in the south wing. It felt so private, like my own part of the house.

I couldn't see the front of the house, so I still had no idea who had come calling. Probably for the best – I had a certain degree of misanthrope, so I wasn't particularly fond of any visitors. Perhaps it wasn't so much misanthrope as an intense dislike for conversing with idiots.

I reached the large white dresser and pulled out the stool. Sitting down was a relief; my feet were sore from my shoes, and my legs from riding the day before. I looked at myself in the mirror. I really did look quite bad, a little nature-beaten. I grabbed my comb from one of the drawers and pulled it through my tangled locks. My hair was silky and long, so it was easy to rid it of the knots. It settled down my back as I finished brushing it, and I reached across the table to pull out my pins. I pulled my hair up into my signature style; most of it was twisted around on the back of my head, and the few shorter strands at the front fell in waves over my ears. There were also some loose strands at the back of my neck, which I never bothered to pin. I liked it better when it wasn't picture perfect like my mother's. I placed a few of the flowers sitting on the table into my hair, as I loved to do. I liked having a little piece of outside come inside with me. Finally, a bit of hair ran from the front of my head, along the side and was pinned at the back. It sat easily so I didn't even need to bother with those ridiculous hair treatments mama was always going on about.

When I was satisfied, I grabbed my powder and put a little of it on my face. My skin was far from the porcelain white of most women in the English countryside, which I owed to my Spanish heritage. I didn't really like powder all that much, but my mother insisted that I wear it, if only for the sake of doing exactly that. She knew as well as I did that I didn't need it, but what Mama wanted, she got.

Standing up again, I walked to my wardrobe and pulled out the first respectable dress I laid my eyes on. I slipped it on after changing my under-dresses, which were soaked too. It was a soft cream colour, bordering on white, and had a light blue ribbon around the waist. I looked nice.

After waiting what I deemed to be long enough for my mother to have cooled down and the mystery visitor to leave, I made my way back down the stairs.

"Good morning, Miss Lopez," said Harrietta, the head housekeeper as I passed her.

"Good day, Harietta." I responded as politely as I could manage. I did like her; she was nice and she cleaned things, but I really wasn't in a chipper mood. I tried to make myself appear less unhappy than I was as I moved toward the dining room, where I found my parents having a late morning tea. I took a seat at the far end of the table, helping myself to a cup of tea and a biscuit. It was a minute before my presence was acknowledged, as my mother and father seemed to be in excited conversation about a piece of paper.

"Oh, sweetie, you're here. And looking much better, I might add. I have some wonderful news. We've been invited to a ball at the Duke's manor tonight. It will be rather high society – lots of rich young men looking for lovely wives, I'm sure…" She gave me a pointed look and I moved my eyes back down to my tea. I took a sip, and was disappointed to find that it was already cold. The pot must have been there for some time. I was forced to look up when she addressed me again. "You'll have to be looking your very best tonight, dear. And there will be no excuses – you will attend and you will enjoy it, or at least try to look like it." I scowled at her, which she promptly called out as unladylike.

"Mama, must we? Now I shall have to spend the day getting ready. I planned to read." I huffed and put down my biscuit, having lost my appetite.

"Oh, you and your nonsense reading. No one wants a wife that can read; they want a wife that can sew and listen to them. Stop all this tomfoolery about books and go up to your room. I'll send Scarlett up to help you. We're leaving at five o'clock sharp."

I had no option but to retain what little dignity I had left in a storm-out and head back up to my room. I didn't want Scarlett's help; I wanted to do it myself. I was perfectly capable. Once back in my room, I threw myself onto the pillows, whose comfort I was now grateful for. There was a soft knock on my door, and a call came through the wood. "Miss, I will warm some water for your bath." I heard the retreating footsteps and closed my eyes. The evening was most certainly not set to be an enjoyable one.

Many hours and baths later, I was being primped and preened under my mother's careful hands. She did my hair as I had done it earlier, but this time she made sure it looked perfect. I would have to remember to fiddle with it a little later. She added diamond barrettes instead of flowers, and a few pearls too. She picked out the most beautiful dress in my wardrobe, one I hardly wore. It was a deep crimson colour, quite bold. Most ladies wore white or blue, something subtle. But red, my mother said, would make me stand out. Black lace trimmed the bodice of an empire waistline and a small black bow tied at the front, an unusual feature. The bottom of the flowing silk skirt was intricately embroidered with beads in patterns that I couldn't quite make out. It was perfect.

I put it on and let it settle over my body, turning to the mirror to study my reflection. I was pleased with how I looked. No doubt I would turn a few heads tonight. My mother was obviously happy with it too, because she was looking at me lovingly with her hand over her heart. "You look beautiful, dear,' she said softly. And I did. "All the men will want to dance with you tonight." She smiled victoriously, as if this was some sort of competition she'd entered me in and I'd already won. I grimaced in response and the disapproving look was back on her face.

"You _will_ dance with the men tonight. You don't seem to understand how important this is. It is my _utmost_ priority that you find a husband soon, Santana. A woman of eighteen is at just the right age to be married."

I turned away from her and moved back over to the dresser, sitting down once again. I looked at her reflection in the mirror sadly, hoping to convey my emotions to her with my eyes. No such luck. She would never understand me. That was something I had come to accept.

"Come now, it's almost five o'clock. The coach will be waiting." She left the room with a flourish, and I sprayed a little of my favourite perfume on my neck before pulling on my gloves. It was going to be a long night - I could tell.

By the time I reached the carriage, my parents and brothers were already waiting for me. I smiled at Peter and frowned at Morys as I stepped into the coach and sat beside my father. He called to the driver to move and we began the 4-mile journey to Chatsworth House, the residence of the Duke of Devonshire and his family. Never in my eighteen years had I been to the Duke's house, despite living so close. My father had been there numerous times for business, but I'd never had the need nor the inclination to go. Until now, of course.

The journey took less time than I'd hoped, and soon I was stepping out of the black coach, my hand in Peter's for support. He offered me his arm, which I took with a forced smile as we made our way up to the front door. It was the biggest manor I'd ever seen, more a castle than a house. Our own paled in comparison to the extravagance of Chatsworth, and I watched the same barely disguised expressions of awe flit across the faces of other guests as they arrived. We passed the doorman and he greeted us as he took our invitation after studying it shortly. "Have a wonderful evening, Mr. and Mrs. Lopez. Master, Master, Miss," he acknowledged us as we passed him and entered the grand foyer.

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_**Edit:** __In case it wasn't clear, the mystery visitor was the man delivering the invitation. Herp derp._

_**Author's Note:**__ I know there was no Brittana yet, but there will be, just you wait… This was an introductory type chapter, just for you to get a feel for Santana, the setting, her parents and the style. For__ visuals, then Chatsworth House is a real place; I did my research. You can look it up. And Marchess manor, the Lopez house, is entirely from my imagination. Just imagine a stately English house._


	2. Something at First Sight

_**Author's Note: **__Hey guys, if you're reading this, you stuck around! I hope you enjoy this chapter – her first meeting with Brittany shall occur, for your viewing pleasure. Again, let me know what you think, I look forward to, uh… reading (?) from you guys._

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The first thing that struck me was the sheer number of people. There were so many bodies, flowing from room to room, dancing and laughing and being generally lively. The ladies' dresses swirled and the sound of glasses clinking pierced the air intermittently. Music filled the room, and I thought I could make out its source on a balcony of sorts in the main hall.

I tightened my grip on Peter's arm, suddenly quite disconcerted. He noticed and looked at me with concern, but I nodded at him to move forward into the crowd. I was going to make the best of this night, whatever it took.

My parents were already off and socialising, being the pair that they were. Raulin Lopez, my father, was the head of a successful shipping company. His attentions were sought by many prospective traders, and more recently by many bachelors who knew he had an unmarried daughter. And my mother Leticiana got attention by default as his wife.

I could feel a few pairs of eyes on me already, following me as I moved between them. The attention felt strange – I liked that people thought I was worthy of their high-society gazes in a way, but it made me feel a little self-conscious. I knew I looked good, but there was always a nagging feeling in the back of my mind that they were looking at me for some other reason. I knew it was ridiculous, but it was there. We moved towards the hall where there was a dance going on and decided to stay on the sidelines, away form the main action. The dance floor was bustling, people everywhere. It was overwhelming, and I felt the need for a drink. Already.

"Peter, I'd like to get some wine, I'll be back soon," I said, going to release my hold on his arm. But he stopped me, slipping his arm back in mine.

"I'll come with you, Santana. I think this place is a little too crowded. And looking the way you do, you're just asking for trouble. Maybe of the right kind, but trouble nonetheless."

I looked at him gratefully and her got the message, because he looked back down at me with what I could only decipher to be pity. He knew how much I didn't want to be here, and in true Peter form, wasn't going to let me suffer alone.

He pulled me forward swiftly, the music fading as we moved away. There were less people out here, and the air seemed cooler, easier to breathe. I took advantage of this and inhaled deeply, filling my lungs with the relatively fresh air. I felt more comfortable away from the people.

In all the commotion I'd almost allowed myself to forget the reason mama had been so adamant that I came tonight. But when I saw the predatory gaze of an older man fixed on me, or more specifically, on my body, I had to fight the urge to run away and hide in a corner. That honestly sounded like a very good option right now. I cringed inwardly and tried not to show my discomfort as I continued to follow Peter towards a waiter who was coming around with a tray of drinks. I watched him balancing it precariously on one hand, French style, and trying to navigate his way through the crowd. Well, stumbling through the crowd. Every now and again, a hand would pop through the masses to grab a glass from the silver tray or place an empty one back on it, and I could see how flustered the poor man was getting.

By the time he reached us, I was eager to take a glass for myself. I stopped him with a tap on his free arm and he looked up, startled. No one had bothered to stop him for a drink before me. He looked like he was about to ask if he had done something wrong, but I stopped him. "I'd like a glass of wine, if you don't mind." I tried to address him politely, but the air was getting thicker and my throat felt a little tight again. He still hadn't wiped that confused look off his face as he handed me a glass, which I took by the stem and held as I'd been taught. Pink out slightly, gentle pressure on the sides, stem between fingers. Perfect. Now I was regaining some sense of normality. I looked back at the boy, who was still standing there, and now seemed to be staring at me. A slight blush tinted his cheeks and I rolled my eyes. Would this ever stop?

At that moment, I just wished every male in the room would evaporate and I could walk about freely without the gaping. I turned and dismissed the waiter boy with a wave of my hand. I had bothered to make him feel better, and I had no idea why I did, and he merely repaid me with the typical grotesque male stare. I should have known better – never trust a man.

Peter was by now holding his own drink and talking to some stranger whom I assume he knew from his business in town. The man looked distinguished, and I could do nothing but stand, hanging off Peter's arm while he told some apparently hilarious story. I drifted from the conversation, looking around the room. Now I really looked, I could see the party mood starting to take its toll on some people. Women's cheeks were red, and not just from rouge. Men's eyes were wandering, as before. The sound of chatting grew and grew until it was a loud buzzing filling my head.

It took a second for me to come back to reality when I realised my name was being said. "Santana?"

I looked up at my brother who was looking down at me again. "Oh, uh, pardon me. It's quite loud in here. What were you saying, Peter?" I felt a soft blush colour my cheeks as I realised I'd been completely ignoring whatever was being said.

"I was just saying that Mr Wentworth here has a lovely estate, and he remarked how lovely it would be if we would come visit one day. I said we'd be delighted."

I looked at the large middle-aged man again. He had a thick moustache, and a small pointy beard at the bottom of his chin. His middle showed evidence of one too many buffets, and his shoes were so shiny I could see myself in them. He was the picture of an aristocratic simpleton, and he disgusted me.

"Certainly, one day I'm sure it would be lovely to visit." I forced a smile and tried to be diplomatic in my answer, but I wasn't so sure how exactly it came off. By the glint in his eye, I was fairly certain it worked. Hoping I had appeased him for now, I looked around the room again, this time playing it up.

"Peter, I think I shall seek out our mother now. She requested that I come and see her at some point in the evening," I lied. Well, it wasn't exactly a complete lie; she would want me to see her, even if she hadn't explicitly stated so. I turned back to the man I now knew as Mr Wentworth and plastered the sickeningly sweet smile back on my face. "It was lovely meeting you, sir. If you'll excuse me."

I detached myself for real this time, not giving Peter the chance to hold me back again. I wanted to get as far away as possible. I briefly considered a short trip outside, but decided against it. I was not prepared to walk about on my own in the dark in such an unfamiliar place. It really was a shame, because I could really feel my need for clear air growing.

Before I could actually go and find mama, I was caught up speaking to a few ladies whom I knew from town. They were all rather pleasant, such a nice change from the snobby guests back where Peter was.

One woman, whose name I thought was Cassandra, was speaking animatedly about a man she met in the bakery the week gone by.

"My goodness was he handsome. And he picked up my bun for me too. Mind you, I only dropped it once I saw him," she giggled. "I think his name was Elwood. He was a right good looking, well dressed young man and I made a total fool of myself, as usual."

_Just like now_, I couldn't help but think.

I finished my wine just in time to dump my empty glass on the passing waiter boy's tray. Serves him right for last time. You get back what you give out. I tried to immerse myself in conversation with the women, but I almost wanted to go find my mother now, I was becoming agitated. I excused myself again from their gossipy chatter and perused the crowd for my parents.

Wondering through the crowd carefully took a good ten minutes. I bumped into a few people, had someone sneeze very close to me and had to ward off an impending panic attack before I finally reached my mama and papa. "Hello," I said simply as I approached. They both turned to look at me, obviously surprised at my sudden presence.

"Is everything alright, dear?" My mother asked, eyeing my suspiciously. I hardly, if ever, sought their presence at such events. So they had a valid reason for concern.

"Perfectly fine, I just wanted to come and see how you were getting along. Peter is having quite the time with some clients from the village."

"Oh," my mother said, "I suppose we're in rather the same situation. We were just talking to the Duke here. Your father has done a fair amount of work for him in the past few years." Mama beamed at me and then turned her smile back to the imposing man in front of us. For once, I disregarded my rebellious urges I had the sense to lower my head and curtsey. I let the action linger a little, properly showing my respect.

"Oh, pardon me for interrupting your conversation then. Terribly sorry, sir," I said, raising my eyes to the tall man again. He looked about fifty, with greying hair and a bald spot. He was clean-shaven save for a thin moustache above his lips, and he was impeccably dressed. He was thin, but not lanky. He really looked like a Duke, or at least what I imagined one should look like. I had to remember now that I was in the presence of Nobility and that long, studying glances most likely weren't the best way to go.

He looked at me and smiled slightly. "Not at all, young lady. I was just telling your parents how much I appreciate your father's work for me. He is indeed a man most worthy of his position." He turned his practised expression back to my papa, who looked ready to burst with pride.

"You are too kind, Duke," he said generically.

"Thankyou Mr Lopez. Now, I'm sure you and your lovely lady folk would like to meet my family."

My father nodded a little too enthusiastically. The Duke led us through the swarms of people to the drawing room, where the rest of his family must have been. It was now that I wanted my brother to magically reappear at my side, so I could have something to hold onto again. No such luck – wherever he was, he wasn't coming to my rescue anytime soon. I suddenly regretted ever leaving him, or that group of women.

We reached the room and saw smaller groups of people sitting all around, chatting pleasantly in a manner much more to my tastes than those about the other rooms and the hall. It was quieter in here. This was quite obviously where the highest of the society present chose to reside. I felt a little out of place in that respect.

He led us over to one of the groups and addressed a couple of the women sitting on a very expensive looking couch. I still hadn't torn my eyes from the surroundings; it was the nicest room I had seen in the house so far. I could understand why those who were used to the grandeur would choose this room. Not that the rest of the house was unpleasant in any way; for goodness' sake, the place was a palace.

I was pulled out of my reverie by the beginning of the introductions. Our families seemed to have formed lines facing one another. I looked at the Duke again – the man commanded respect like no one I'd ever met. I felt obliged to look at him when he wasn't even talking. Before I knew it, he'd started talking again.

"My dear, this is Mr and Mrs Lopez, and their daughter Santana. I'm sure you know Mr Lopez; he did some jobs for me earlier in the year." He seemed to be talking to a tall, skinny blonde woman who looked about forty, definitely younger than her husband. She was wearing a deep green velvet dress and her hair was arranged neatly on her head. She was also very pretty. She nodded at his introduction and smiled genuinely. "This is my wife, Duchess Aletta." He was now talking to us again, motioning to his wife, and we all bowed our heads respectfully.

He moved on to another woman standing next to the Duchess, this one with shorter brown hair. She was pretty too, but obviously took after her father more than her mother. Her features were prominent and striking, and she had an air about her that was reminiscent of the Duke. "This is my eldest daughter, Constance. She is married to a Mister Harry Warde, and is here for the evening despite her living 4 hours by coach from here." He looked at his daughter dotingly and she too smiled at us. Again with the respectful bobbing.

He moved on swiftly, motioning to the end of his family line. "And last, but certainly not least, my younger daughter Brittany." It took a minute for my eyes to find whom he was motioning to, but when they did, I could swear my heart stopped.

There, standing in front of me, was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I vaguely remembered thinking I was the most attractive person ever earlier. I retracted that statement immediately. My heart waited out its skipped beat and then seemingly began trying to make up for lost time by thumping as rapidly as it possibly could inside my chest.

I took a second to take her in. She had long golden hair that was pulled back into an elaborate bunch of curls and waves, much like mine except a hundred times more beautiful. A pure, ivory-white dress fell to the floor around her tall, slim form. The most striking part about her was her eyes - they were sky blue, and filled with the contagious warmth that seemed to radiate from her whole body. Or maybe that was just me, as I felt a strong blush creeping up my cheeks. Why was I blushing?

By now she was looking right back at me, those eyes boring into mine. She was probably trying to decipher my odd behaviour, as was I. I noticed a faint reddening of her cheeks. No, perhaps I was imagining it.

I heard a throat being cleared and was pulled back to the introduction at hand. Mama was looking at me a little strangely, and I realised I'd neglected to curtsey, which I did promptly. This only caused my cheeks to redden further. I could feel the odd looks people were giving me at my sudden colour, but they soon went back to their conversation once the episode seemed to be over. I looked up to find Brittany still watching me. I felt the need to say something, anything. I opened my mouth a couple of times before I could get anything out.

"I'm honoured to meet you, Lady Pierce." I said, going for the safe option. "I apologise, it's just… a little warm in here." She seemed to take this into account and nodded. My pathetic excuses were getting worse by the minute.

"You too, Miss Lopez." A series of emotions flitted across her face, but I couldn't quite figure out what. I was probably mistaken, but one of them almost looked like—no. She settled on a polite smile, the corners of her mouth pulling up a little. It was a soft expression, and only served to make her look more beautiful. I shook my head a little to clear my mind, and put a hand over my heart, which at this point seemed to be beating a mile a minute. I could feel it out of control under my hand, and I suddenly felt quite dizzy. Brittany looked at me, now concerned as I began to sway a little.

"Are you alright?" She asked. I nodded uncertainly and wished I would stop acting like such in imbecile. "Would you like to go outside for a minute? It's cooler out there, perhaps it might help." Her question took me by surprise. Did she mean that she would come with me? I internally slapped myself for hoping the answer was yes.

I nodded again, this time with more conviction. I had wanted to go outside for some time now, to get some long needed fresh air. It smelled like alcohol, smoke and the hundreds of people that were dancing merrily in here.

"Yes, that would probably be a good idea." She smiled wider and offered me her arm. I looked at it, puzzled for a moment as she watched me. Did she want me to take it? She was a woman…

"You look a little unstable," she explained, "and I thought it'd be better if you had something to hold on to." _Oh._ _That was perfectly logical._ But it wouldn't help much when the cause of my instability was the thing keeping me up. I decided to take her arm, because she was right. She was taller than me, so I had to hold my arm up a little higher. I was used to it because of Peter, but it was still a little uncomfortable. She seemed to notice this and lowered her own arm a little. When I looked up at her, she simply smiled and kept walking towards the font door with me in tow.

The doorman nodded at us as we passed him. "Lady Pierce," he said courteously. She whisked me out the door and down the front steps. There was no one else outside. She pulled me past a group of waiting carriages and into a small courtyard beside the house.

The air was clear, and I could finally breathe again. The chill helped calm my blazing cheeks and I could feel myself relaxing as I looked around in the dark. From what I could make out, there was a sundial to my left in the centre of a circle of hedges. It sat in the middle of a small moat, the water of which caught the reflections of the light form the house's windows. It was tranquil, and I loved it. I looked to my feet and saw I was standing one of a series of small, engraved stepping-stones. This one had a baby deer on it. Releasing my arm, Brittany moved over to the water and watched it ripple slightly. Her own moonlit reflection was now shimmering on the surface; it was ethereal.

"This is a beautiful place," I tried. She didn't move, but she nodded slightly.

"Yes, it really is. I come here sometimes when I need to think. You looked like you needed some space." She spoke quietly, but with tenderness to her voice that I wondered at. I still didn't know why she was bothering with me. She was a Lady, and I was just Santana Lopez. I knew I shouldn't let it get to my head. She seemed to be having some sort of internal battle, but finally she turned to me and I saw a glint in her eyes. Through the darkness I could make out the slightest of blushes colouring her cheeks. "You look lovely this evening, Miss Lopez."

And there was the heart flutter again. _What?_ I stood there, a little awkwardly, until she turned back to the water. Her expression had changed, like she regretted saying that. I had to be careful with my response.

"Thank you, Lady Pierce. As do you." I tried to sound confident, but my voice wavered a little. She must have noticed because out of the corner of my eye, I could see that small smile return to her face. I hesitated a moment before moving over to her, keeping a distance between us. I saw he turn her head to look at me, but I was suddenly very interested in the sundial, glaring at it intensely. "Don't you have guests to entertain? Won't your parents be wondering where you are?" I asked her.

"No, I often disappear for a while at these balls anyway. Usually it's by myself though." She was still watching me, and I started to feel more uncomfortable. I felt like she was judging me. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yes, thank you. It's very refreshing out here." I didn't know why this had to be so awkward; we were just two women chatting. Nothing strange. Why, then, did this feel different? I looked at her again, which was a mistake because I found myself looking right into those bright blue eyes. She held my gaze for a minute before turning her body to face me. That small movement was all it took to shatter whatever trance I'd been in. I needed to get away from here. Now this air seemed thicker than the air inside had been, and my heart rate began to pick up again.

"I…need to go speak to my brother. Something…important," was all I could give her before I hurried from the courtyard, my dress swirling behind me. I didn't dare to look back – I knew she would be confused as to why I ran away, but right now that was all I needed to do. I made my way back up the steps and re-entered the bustling crowd of people. Now that I was back inside, I had no idea what I actually planned to do. I grabbed another drink off a passing tray, and headed for the main hall.

My mother found me sitting on a chair at the back of the room. I had neglected my wine and left it on a table long ago, not really in the mood to drink anymore. She looked me up and down and then held out her hand. She wanted me to get up. I just wanted to melt into the wood of the seat and not have to deal with this night at all. But her face told me there was no avoiding this. I stood up, and took her hand. She led me through the crowd to a group of men who were chatting cheerily among themselves. My father and Morys were among them, but Peter was still nowhere to be seen. A couple of ladies had the attention of some men, but other than that, they simply seemed to be laughing raucously and telling stories.

My mother pushed through, into the group to stand next to my father. She pulled me beside her and dropped my hand, which fell gracelessly to my side. I righted myself and clasped my hands in front of myself, like I had been taught. There was so much to learn and remember when you were part of this society.

"Gentlemen, this is my daughter Santana, whom I was just telling you about." She gave them a winning smile and nudged me inconspicuously in the side. I smiled too.

"Good evening," I said civilly. I could see a few men looking at me appreciatively, which only cause my mother to smile wider.

"I'm sure she'd love to dance with some of you fine young men, wouldn't you dear?" She said, turning back to me.

I couldn't think of anything worse. "Of course, mama," I said. I sounded sickeningly feminine. She was playing this up for all it was worth – she would find me a husband if it was the last thing she did, I was sure of it.

One of the men held his hand out for me to dance, which I accepted gracefully. The orchestra was just striking up a new number, so we lined up with the other couples and began to dance. The man was nice enough, but clumsy and ungainly. I didn't enjoy dancing with him one bit. He stepped on the hem of my dress and knocked my elbow in the process of trying to apologise. He was suitably embarrassed, and I tried to placate him with murmurs of, 'it's perfectly fine, never mind,' and the likes. He seemed to get over it and we continued dancing without further difficulties other than his incapability. I was extremely thankful when it ended, but before I knew it my mother sent me more partners, and I was swept up in a whirlwind of dances.

I was getting tired, and as the evening dragged on I found myself searching the crowd, for anyone or anything that could save me from the wearisome tirade of steps. Suddenly, I spotted Brittany watching me from across the room. Her eyes were following me as I was twirled about, but as soon as she saw me looking at her she turned away and went back to her conversation. That was odd. It gave me a strange tingling feeling to know she'd been watching me, something like… butterflies.

"Miss Lopez, are you okay?" My current partner had obviously noticed my distraction.

"Quite fine, yes," I trailed off, closing the conversation with a man who I had come to know as Mr Conteville. He was less clumsy than the others, but more conceited than all of them combined.

When the last dance finished, I almost ran from the ballroom and out into the foyer. I discreetly adjusted my dress, as it had moved a little during all that dancing. I spotted Peter back in the ballroom dancing with a young lady. He looked like he was having fun. I went to the powder room, where some ladies were chatting and applying powder. I did the same, fixing my hair and makeup so I didn't look quite so flustered. I pulled out a few strands at the back of my neck – just the way I liked it. Now I looked respectable again, I went back out to find my mother looking for me. "My dear we'd best be off, guests are beginning to leave and your father has to be away early tomorrow for business. Come and say goodbye to the Duke with us."

I let out a sigh of relief – this evening had been exhausting to say the least. By the time we reached the Duke, there seemed to be a lot less people in the hall than before. Oh, small mercies.

"Thank you, Duke, we all had a wonderful evening. The entertainment was exquisite, as was the company," my father said. He was an expert at diplomacy and could handle almost any social situation with grace. The rest of my family nodded in agreement. "We'll be sure to be in touch. Good night." He turned to the Duchess and nodded.

Before I could leave, Brittany caught my eyes. She held my gaze, like before, and I felt the fluttering in my stomach start up again. "Good night, Miss Lopez." She was addressing me, and me only. I bowed my head respectfully and looked at her one last time before I turned around.

"Good night," I whispered as I walked away.

I could feel her eyes still on me as I retreated to the door. We got into the carriage and before I knew it, we were back home. I was suddenly about to drop from weariness, so I went straight upstairs to my room, not caring for the calls of my mother and father as I did. I undressed slowly, put on my nightgown and slipped under the covers, relaxing into the warmth and comfort of the mattress. I closed my eyes, and laid my head on the pillow, willing the thoughts flying around inside my head to let up so I could get some sleep. As I drifted off, I had less control over my mind, and I couldn't stop the dreams that came. That night, I dreamt of her.

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_**Author's Note: **__Leave your thoughts in lovely reviews (or not so lovely, if that's what you feel) and point out any mistakes. Thanks to all my wonderful readers n_n_

_*Next chapter will be actual proper conversation between them. Outlandish, I know. _


	3. Walk Me Home

_**Author's Note: **__Chapter three; thank you for your responses, I love hearing from you :) Be sure to put the story on alert if you want to be notified of updates, like this one… Ready for some actual interaction?_

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I opened my eyes to bright light spilling through my lace drapes, making me close them again quickly. I tried again tentatively and let them adjust to the sudden onslaught. Blinking groggily, I tried to sit up, but found that my muscles were exhausted. I lay back down, willing myself back to sleep. I knew it wouldn't come; it had to be at least half ten by now. I sighed heavily and looked out my window. I could see some sheep wandering far off in the fields. It was a still day, the leaves didn't rustle and the grass didn't sway. It was a quiet day.

Something was nagging at the back of my mind. Sitting there, trying to pull itself into my consciousness yet managing to stay just below the surface; a dream, perhaps. I felt very strange.

I rubbed my eyes and decided that I needed to get up. I peeled back the covers and shivered as the cool air hit my skin. The early spring air was crisp, even inside. My fireplace was already blazing, the wood crackling softly as it smouldered away across the room. I was thankful for whoever lit it. I rubbed my arms, trying to ward off the chill that hung in the room despite the flames. The thin fabric of my nightgown wasn't doing much to help. I pushed the blankets off fully and slid my feet to the floor. I moved quickly over to the open fire and stood in front of it, turning myself periodically like I was a roast. At least now I was up.

Warmth radiated through my body and I didn't want to ever leave this spot, but I dressed and prepared myself to go downstairs somewhat reluctantly. I hated the mornings after social events; I was always a great deal more tired, no matter how many hours of sleep I got, than any other time. I neglected to style my hair or put on any make up. When I was dressed and ready in a light pink day dress and my most comfortable shoes – which I had need of after all that dancing – I padded silently down the hallway to the stairs. I could hear animated voices coming from the dining room. _Fantastic. Family meal._

I poked my head around the corner, assessing the situation before stepping cautiously into the room. I snuck a look at the grandfather clock in the corner, which read twenty minutes to eleven o'clock. I was more or less right. It seemed no one else had been up long either, as they were all settling into their seats to start breakfast as I went in.

"Good morning," I said. I was in a somewhat better mood this morning, and I just hoped it could stay this way.

"So, Santana," Mama started, and I knew already what this was about. I begged for any other topic of conversation. She gave me a judging look as I reached for the eggs. "How did you enjoy last night? Peter was just telling me about a lovely young woman he met. Macie, wasn't it?" She took a bite of her toast and a sip of her tea, adding more sugar. There were probably already three spoonfuls in there. "Acceptably handsome woman, I would say. And she seemed pleasant enough," she continued her judgemental tirade. She sometimes couldn't stop herself when it came to voicing her opinions of people. "Regardless, did you happen to meet anyone that took your fancy, Santana?" She was suddenly looking at me again, with en expectant expression that made me feel obliged to give her a favourable answer.

"There were several young men who were fairly amicable," I lied, "some of whom I danced with. The were lively, if not a little uncoordinated." I tried to keep the distaste out of my voice, but I felt like I was failing miserably. My mother's expression was unreadable as she turned back to the meal at hand. I did the same to avoid any further confrontation.

All I could think about was the blonde who had haunted my dream world and was now doing the same to my waking one. _Brittany._ No, that wasn't proper. It was _Lady Pierce_ to me. I needed to stop thinking about her. What was with me, she was just another woman at a ball. Yes, she was the most beautiful thing I had ever had the fortune to lay eyes upon. Yes, she paid attention to me, in the proper way, and took me outside. But I had to stop acting so ridiculous. No good could come from dwelling on her.

I shook my head and tried to get back into the conversation, but it mostly revolved around last night and the potential matches my parents had found for us. Mama seemed to like the idea of Mr Gerts, who was as wealthy as the sun is bright and was apparently in need of a wife before he moved back to London. First of all, never in a thousand years would I marry someone named Gert, and secondly I would never want to move to London. Not once my life did I wish to return to that bustling city that reeked of smoke and other unmentionables. Also, if I was correct in visualising who she was talking about, there was not a chance in the seventh circle that I would spend the rest of my days with a man who couldn't see his own feet over his stomach. I made sure to mention this before I left the table, which I did as soon as I could. This morning was shaping up to be a lot like yesterday; I could feel a mood coming on. I stopped to calm my breathing and my thoughts, moving into the sunroom to lie on the lounge chair by the wall.

The room was exceptionally bright and made me feel better just to be in there. The rays streamed through the imposing bay windows, curtains pulled aside to let in as much of the light as possible. I lay back attempted to focus my thoughts, the whole while drifting between awake and asleep. I guess I hadn't fully slept last night off yet.

"Santana?" Called a voice from somewhere near the door. I opened my eyes to see Peter standing in the doorway, poking his head around the wood. He looked at me, as if to ask if he could disturb me without fearing for his life. I nodded at him and he stepped into the room, albeit a little cautiously.

"I hope you weren't too uncomfortable at breakfast," he started. "Mama was quite intense. I must say though, your expressions never fail to amuse me. Actually, neither did hers when you made at remark about Mr Gert's size. That, dear sister, was priceless." He chuckled a little and sat on the chair across from me. I couldn't help but join him in his laughter, because admittedly, when Mama got mad, she had a tendency to make entertaining faces. Peter continued: "She's being rather pressing about this whole suitor thing, isn't she?" I nodded and decided against letting out the rush of complaints that came to mind.

"She's excited about marrying me off. That's so typical of her," I said.

"Mama just likes to have our family look outwardly flawless. She will go to extraordinary lengths to do so, apparently." He looked out the window, momentarily lost in thought. It was short-lived, and soon he was talking again. "Well, what do you say we escape the hounding for a while and you come into town with Morys and myself? Mama needed some errands run in the village and I _generously_ volunteered, if not only to get out of the house for some much needed exercise."

At the prospect of a walk and some fresh air, I immediately perked up. I wanted so much to go out today. Peter noticed my change it attitude. "I'll take that as a yes, then?" He asked.

"Absolutely. And _must_ Morys come? He will only slow us down." I didn't want to be stuck on a road for the better part of the morning with none other than Sergeant Stiffpants himself. But if Peter were there, at least I wouldn't have to handle him alone. He could be as bad as mother sometimes.

"I'm afraid so. He promised he would look after some business of his own, leaving us to do Mama's work. I'm sure he'll be very _useful_." He grimaced, obviously feeling the same way as me, but it was apparently unavoidable.

"Fine, but you have to talk to me the whole way. There is no way I am getting into an argument with him. Any other day, gladly, but today… I want to enjoy myself."

"As do I, which by default means I must talk to you and not him, Santana." He laughed again; Peter was always happy. That was one thing I admired about him. I on the other hand, tended to be moody and unpredictable, often seething. But not with Peter – he brought out the best in me.

I gathered myself, standing to go and get my jacket. There was still a morning chill in the air, so I figured I'd be needing it. "I'll be back in a minute, alright?" I headed upstairs, grabbed what I needed and was at the front door within minutes. Eager to leave, I asked Peter where Morys was. "Can't that moron go any faster?" I asked impatiently.

"Assuming the subject at hand is our brother, then no. His incapability knows no bounds." He said it with such a straight face that I couldn't help but smile slightly.

"If he's not here in thirty seconds _precisely_ we are leaving without him," I said, irritated.

As if on cue, Morys appeared at the top of the stairs. I rolled my eyes. Well, there was only one option now. He was included in our visit. What a piece of luck.

"Peter, Santana," he said curtly from his position before walking down the stairs as if he were the Queen. And yes… Queen, not King. I wanted to laugh, but kept it to myself. Peter opened the door and waited for me to stop outside before moving to follow me. Always the gentleman. He didn't wait for Morys, who ended up moving faster as he tried to stop Peter closing the door behind himself. I wished he'd fallen down the stairs.

We set off along the dusty road, Peter and I making small talk most of the way. At the same time, Morys kept to himself apart form the occasional snide remark at our stranger comments.

"No one wants to hear it, Morys. Be quiet," was all it took from me to effectively silence him the rest of the journey. It was past noon by the time we reached the town square. The sun was high in the sky and yesterday's breeze had picked up again. Everything was so lively and busy; Sunday seemed to be the say to go out. Morys left us as quickly as he possibly could, heading off in the direction of the town hall. I couldn't have been more relieved.

"Mama wanted bread, so let's go to the bakery first," Peter said as I turned back to him. We headed towards the small shop, and I loved the smell of fresh bread that hit me before we even reached it. I opted to stay outside because it was much too crowded in there and I hated being pressed up against strangers like that, so Peter went in there alone.

I leaned up against the outside wall by the window, whilst trying to maintain whatever sense of elegance I had. Things were so hard sometimes. I looked around the street and hoped to find something interesting whilst I waited. I saw a small man unable to control a horse a little way down, next to a boutique. I supressed a snigger and kept looking. Closer to me, there was a small child apparently having an altercation with a pigeon, who itself was seemingly quite persistent. I tore my eyes away from the scene just in time to see an all too familiar blonde making her way down the street.

I felt my heart rate pick up immediately and cursed myself for my reaction. I tried to look anywhere but her, anywhere but her perfect form that was coming this way. _Damn it all._ Why, oh why did she have to be coming over here, of all places? It's just a bakery. Why would anyone go to a bakery? To get bread – right. My eyes were invariably drawn back to her as she approached, and it seemed that she had yet to notice me. Part of me wanted her to disappear, but a much bigger part of me wanted her to come over here and talk to me. I had no idea what I'd say if she did… I hardly knew her. I was still having this internal battle when she reached the shop, and therefore me. I put my head down, deciding it would be better not to strike up a conversation.

"Miss Lopez?" Came a soft voice from somewhere in front of me. I had no choice but to look up. I was faced with her shining blue eyes and a small smile. She looked absolutely breathtaking, no doubt effortlessly.

"Oh… uh, Lady Pierce. What, a… coincidence." I said, curtseying and trying my best to put on what I deemed to be a composed smile. I could feel the colour in my cheeks already. I wished that Peter would hurry up in the bakery so I could escape this situation. What could possibly be taking him so long?

"Yes, and a lovely one at that. I didn't get to talk to you properly last night, after you, uh, left to find someone. Was everything alright?" She asked it so kindly, I felt obliged to grace it with a more honest answer than I had intended to give.

"Yes, everything turned out fine. I didn't find that person straight away though. I'll admit I got a little caught up once I went back inside. I'm sorry I left so abruptly, I just…" I was rambling, and I'm sure I sounded like an idiot. Why did she even remember me? I hated that I was so pleased that she had.

Her cool eyes now had a touch of amusement to them. I'd made an utter fool of myself now, wonderful. When she spoke again it surprised me. "I really wanted to talk to you more last night. You seemed like the nicest person there. Besides, I wanted to make sure you were okay again before I let you back inside." Her smile had by now become more pronounced. "I hoped I would find you again before the night was out to check up on you. But I only saw you again to say goodbye." She pouted a little at the memory.

She had wanted to see me again? I felt those butterflies in my stomach start up again. She had wanted to talk to me. Brittany, the flawless Duke's daughter. I couldn't help the feeling of happiness, and perhaps even a little pride, that coursed through me in that moment. I allowed myself to feel it this time, completely wrapped up in her presence. I sensed that I was letting this silence drag out too long so I replied hastily.

"I'm sorry, I really did enjoy our conversation," I said pathetically. _A little too much, _I thought_._ "It's unfortunate that I didn't see you for the rest of the evening, but I can assure you it wasn't as pleasant as what I imagine your company would have been." _What was that that just came out of my mouth? _The censorship system from my brain to my mouth needs to be fixed. Or perhaps implemented, seeing as I seemed to be saying all sorts of dumb things.

She didn't seem to mind that I had just said something very strange. In fact, if I wasn't mistaken, I saw a faint blush cover her cheeks. I was probably mistaken.

For once she was at a loss for a smooth response, as she always seemed to be. "Well, perhaps you could make it up to me by visiting the house sometime soon?" She asked, already back to her perpetually animated demeanour. I stood, shocked for a minute at her request. Did she mean me, go her house, where she lives, and spend time with her? My stomach did a series of small flips at the thought of more proximity to her. She turned those dazzling eyes on me in what had to be the most unfair of manoeuvres so that I had no choice but to agree. "Only if you'd like to, of course. I think I would enjoy your company, is all," she added sweetly. I could never refuse this woman anything. That could be a good thing or it could be a bad thing. I guess I'd find out sooner or later because before I could stop myself, I was agreeing.

"I'd be honoured, Lady Pierce," I said, with a polite nod of my head. Now I was really wondering where my brother was. This was getting quite ridiculous. I needed someone to save me before this became any worse than it already was. "That aside, what are you doing here? Shouldn't someone be with you?" It did seem a little odd that she was wandering the village streets by herself.

"Oh, no. My sister is here too, she just had a few things to do. I assume you are here with someone too, seeing as you seemed to be waiting when I saw you." She motioned vaguely behind her as she spoke of her sister, and then looked straight back to me.

"Yes, my brothers also had business in town. I am here for the fresh air and a walk." I tried to lighten the mood, feeling the heaviness of our conversation between us.

"Would you care to take a walk with me? I must go to the dressmaker's while I'm here, as I am having something tailored." She looked at me expectantly. I was quiet for another moment before answering her.

"If you wish it, Lady Pierce. I'd be more than happy to accompany you." I had to look at the ground as I said this, for fear that my face would betray my increased discomfort. She was making my heart beat erratically with every innocent question. "Just allow me a moment to tell my brother to go on without me." I almost ran inside, apologising as I squeezed past other customers. I searched frantically for my brother; since the room was so small it was easy to find him.

"What's been taking you so long?" I asked a little harshly. He looked at me bewildered, then back to a woman standing in front of him. I had just noticed her, and realised they must have been talking. I suddenly felt very awkward, and decided to calm myself down and leave them to it.

"Pardon the interruption, but I just wanted to let you know that I've run into… a friend, and she has requested that I go with her to the dressmaker. Don't wait for me." I said a little rushed. He looked at me oddly and then decided not to ask any further questions.

"That's alright, enjoy yourself," he said curtly.

"Excuse me again for the intrusion," I apologised as I made my way back out of the shop and back to Brittany. She was waiting patiently by the door where I had been earlier, and as I re-joined her she smiled brightly at me. I felt a little out of place. Not by _her_ side; no, that felt perfect somehow. But by a Duke's daughter's side. I was afraid of making a slip up or being improper, but the thing was I found I hadn't really cared about those things before. Why should I care now?

"She must have noticed my apprehension, because she put her hand on my arm and asked my if I still wanted to go with her. I nodded quickly, trying not to shiver at her touch, and we headed down the road to the tailor's. We made small talk along the way, mostly about the weather and the night before. I tried to keep my voice even and answer with what I deemed appropriately eloquent answers.

As we entered the shop, a small bell tinkled in the doorway. The room was lavishly decorated, and I had been here many times for my own dresses. We approached the owner, Mrs Pendle, and she recognised us both right away. She bowed her head a little and bid us good morning, and then engaged in conversation with Brittany about her dress. It was for some function coming up, and had to be perfect. After some time spent talking about the details, Mrs Pendle asked if the Lady would please try it on so she could make some last minute alterations.

"That would be fine, I love wearing it anyway," Brittany said happily.

Mrs Pendle looked over at me now. "And you've got Santana here to help. I have it on good authority that she has a wonderful sense of fashion." She chuckled heartily, not seeming to notice the look on my face, or Brittany's for that matter. If I hadn't been watching her closely, I might have missed the slight tender expression that flitted across her face. I must have been going crazy.

"I know, you should have seen her dress last night. It was exquisite," she said, looking at me quickly before turning back to the older woman, who was now wielding pins and a tape measure.

I stood in the middle of the room, not quite sure what to do as Brittany disappeared to get changed. When she called for help with the back of the dress, I made sure to let the assistant go. She emerged a few minutes later, in a flowing pastel-green dress that accentuated every curve of her lithe figure. I could do nothing but stare and regret my decision to come with her, because right now I was certain that my face betrayed my utter admiration for her. I forced myself to move my eyes up to her own which were watching me carefully.

"What do you think?" She asked as she spun around, testing the way it settled. There were so many answers whirling in my head, but many of them were hardly appropriate.

"It's… it's incredible, Lady Pierce," I said gently.

She grinned delightedly, and then stood still as Mrs Pendle moved to her and took down a few more measurements on the hem and the bodice before informing Brittany that she was finished.

"It will be all perfect by Friday, milady."

"Wonderful, thankyou Mrs Pendle. I think Miss Lopez likes it too." She looked at me and smiled, which I returned tentatively.

"I do," I said, "I think it looks stunning on you."

"I'm glad I asked you to come. Quite frankly, my sister is no use when it comes to fashion. She thinks several shades of grey are the be-all and end-all of dressmaking." Brittany explained as she moved towards the partition again.

"Glad to help," I said as I watched her step out of view to change back into her other dress. Thankfully, this time she didn't need help. The assistants were nowhere to be seen, but they magically reappeared when it was time for us to leave.

"Goodbye, see you on Friday!" Brittany called as we exited the shop, and then turned to me. "Do you want me to take you back to the bakery?" She asked.

I wanted so much to stay with her, against my better judgement, but I said yes anyway and we headed back in the direction we had come. It appeared, though, that my bother had already left.

"Peter isn't here," I told her as we stood outside. "He must have left whilst we were gone." Of course he had, we'd been a while. "Perhaps I should look for my Morys, he must be around here somewhere."

"Morys?" She asked, confused.

"My other older brother," I informed her. "He came with us, but no doubt he has already gone home. He wouldn't wait." The situation was looking grimmer by the minute; it seemed I would have to walk home by myself. It was pointless looking for either of them, and I knew it. "I think I will just walk home myself, thank you for inviting me to come with you. It was lovely, and your dress really was beautiful." I looked down as I said this, unable to meet her eyes.

"You're too kind. And as for walking, would you let me come with you? I don't think walking alone would be such a good idea."

"You don't have to, I'll be-"

"I insist, please. Let me get my sister and we'll go." She moved off to the post office, from which her sister was emerging. I remembered the serious looking woman from the ball. Brittany must have been right about her dress habits – she seemed older than I knew she had to be. After a short exchange, Brittany came back towards me, alone.

"She said she'll stay, she's going to spend the afternoon with a friend while she's here. She has to leave for her home later."

"Do you still want to come? I mean, my house is on the way to yours, but you would have to go the rest of the way alone," I tried, hoping she would see the sense in my argument.

"Of course. The way between your house and mine is much less dangerous. I'm perfectly familiar with it." I could see there would be no arguing with her; she had decided what she was going to do, and that was walk with me.

"Alright," I said, resigned. "Lead the way, Lady Peirce." She started walking and I fell into step beside her. It was an easy pace, and I felt myself becoming more comfortable as the time passed. It felt natural and simple to be with her like this, just us, without any pressure. Her mood rubbed off on me a little, and I couldn't help the smile that crept onto my face at her silly comments. She sometimes said things that I couldn't quite decipher, but in some ways made sense. The journey was over much too quickly for my liking, and I wished selfishly for more time with her. But I knew she probably had better things to do than talk to me. I still didn't quite know why she was.

We reached the end of my long gravel driveway, leading up to the house, which sat on a slight rise in the distance. The stone wall proudly proclaimed _Marchess Manor_ in bronze lettering.

"Well, this is where I leave you," I said quietly, daring to look up at her. Her eyes were deep, and the soft smile of earlier was back on her lips.

"I enjoyed your company today, Santana." She bounced a little in place. "I hope you don't mind if I call you that," she added quickly, "I just find all the titles confusing and unnecessary." Of course I didn't mind. I liked the sound of my name when she said it, but then, anything would have sounded sounded pleasant in her voice. I could feel the tingling in my stomach growing again as I held her gaze.

"Of course not. it is my name after all," I tried to joke. She just kept looking at me in the same why, and it was hard to tell exactly how that was. "And as for today, thank you. I'm glad we had the opportunity to talk more after last night." I felt silly and dropped my gaze.

"Yes, well then I'd like you to call me Brittany. Lady Peirce is too formal," she said seriously.

"Well then, Brittany," I said, trying to keep the waver and the grin out of my voice as I used her name, "thank you very much for walking me home."

"It was my pleasure, Santana," she said, "and you should know that I am holding you to your promise of a visit some time soon. Have a wonderful afternoon." She looked at me one last time, softly into my eyes. There was a moment of heavy silence between us as we stood close, each of us caught in the other's gaze. It was the same feeling as the first time I saw her; my heart fluttered and time seemed to slow for a moment. Then she turned and started down the dirt path that would take her to Chatsworth.

"You too," I called after her, hoping she heard me. I watched her for a minute before I spun on my heel and followed my driveway up to the house. I ran up the steps and inside, closing the door and then leaning back on it. "Brittany," I whispered, smiling at how her name felt on my lips. I caught myself, suddenly aware of what I was doing. _What am I doing?_ I thought. _She's a woman, and a Lady no less._ But at this point in time, I didn't care. I was still reeling from our encounter and I couldn't bring myself to think rationally.

I moved through the house, still giddy and passed Peter and Morys in the lounge. They were pleased I had gotten back safely, and apologised for leaving. I dismissed it and kept going towards the library.

"Santana, come here, my dear. I think I've found you a husband!" Came my mother's excited cry from the dining room. _Oh, God no. Anything but that._

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_**Author's Note: **__Hope you liked this chapter of actual interaction. I rewrote it about five times, ugh.__ There is a lot of plot coming up… heh heh. Love you all dearly._


	4. The Offer

_**Author's Note: **__I've had several 'Santana's mom is mean!' reviews… I intended her to be that way. Glad it's working. Disregard Santana's canon mom, because she's __**hella **__nice and cool, whereas this one obviously isn't._

_Hope you like this chapter, as usual, but without further ado I will get to it._

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I stopped dead in my tracks, and any trace of my good mood vanished. I hoped that I had not just heard what I thought I had. Did Mama just say that she had found me… _a husband? _Oh, no. This was not supposed to happen.

"Santana? Are you there?" she called again as she moved towards the archway leading from the dining room. I cringed as she rounded on me, the brightest expression I'd ever seen adorning her face. I cringed even more. She looked like she'd struck gold. But better. "Oh, my sweet girl, you'll be married! Married!" she threw her arms around me, euphoric at the prospect. I curled in on myself, attempting to get as little contact as possible with her.

I tried my hardest to get words out. "Wh- when di- how?" I managed to push together a few fragments, hoping she would catch on to my feelingss. Which were mainly confusion, shock, and fury. No scratch that, all I felt was numb. I pushed her off me, but nothing could bring her down.

"Santana, you are so lucky you have such a caring mother, one who can do things like this for you," she gushed.

"Mama, what on God's great earth are you talking about?" I had broken out of my stupor and the absolute fear was creeping through. And I knew well enough that fear bred rage.

"I'm talking about Mr Obelyn, of course. He's only the handsomest man you've ever seen. Not to mention he is extremely rich…" she trailed off a little, a glossy look coming into her eyes.

"Mama, I told you, I don't want a husband. Just leave me _alone_." I was unable to keep the warning tone out of my wavering voice.

"Oh, don't be stupid. You've got to get married sometime soon. And I just found you the perfect man. On the serendipitous occasion that his horse got a stone in its hoof on the road outside the house this morning, I was able to ascertain that he is indeed looking for a wife. And what better moment to mention that I have an unwed daughter!"

"How about never?" That would be a much better moment. "Mama, I don't even know this man. I have _never seen him in my life_. How could you marry your daughter to someone you met this morning?" I was appalled at how eager she seemed to be rid of me. Who was I kidding? I knew that anyway.

"Quiet. He is a very respectable man. I have invited him back soon, so you can meet him. His name is Elias, and I'm sure you'll love him, Santana," she tried in her most convincing voice. I wanted to slap her. Who did she think she was to tell me whom I would love? If there was one thing I _did_ know, it was that I could never, _ever_ fall in love with a man.

"I won't be here. I'll run away. I'll leave and never come back," I yelled, but we both knew they were empty threats. Still she looked taken aback, and her once gleaming eyes turned darker.

"Santana Maria Lopez. You will be here. You will meet this man. And if he asks you to marry him, you will say _yes._ I don't want to hear another stupid word come out of your stupid mouth. You don't know what's good for you, silly girl. Why don't you do yourself a favour and listen to me for once?" She glared at me hotly for a long moment. I wanted to cry. I bit back the tears; I wouldn't give her the satisfaction of seeing me break. As she began to walk away, I spun and fled up the stairs, running as fast as I could to my room. I didn't give Morys a second glance as he looked at me, obviously bewildered. I hated him. I hated Mama. I just wanted to be left to myself forever.

I pushed open my door, slamming it behind me before I crumpled onto the floor in front of it. I let the tears come, sobbing until my body ached and I didn't see how I could possibly have anything left in me to cry out.

All I could do was deny that this was happening, but I knew there was nothing that would change my mother's mind. I felt another wave of tears coming on as I let the reality of the situation hit me. I had always protested, never really believing that one day she would win. But now, as the prospect of a husband loomed all too real over my head, I couldn't do anything. I shook and shuddered with each whimper that escaped my broken form. I curled up on the wood, not caring for my dress, and decided to stay right where I was for as long as the universe would allow.

I drifted in and out of thought for a while, not having the motivation to even move to the bed. I wished I could just melt into the floor, disappear so I wouldn't have to face life. Why couldn't I have it easy like all the other women? They have no problem finding and falling in love with men. I didn't feel anything. Actually, no. I did; I felt hatred. Pure, unadulterated loathing and disgust. But then what was I feeling for… Brittany? What was I doing?

Suddenly I was so much more scared of that than the prospect of marrying Mr Obelyn. I couldn't deny the warm feeling that flowed through my body when I was with her, when she spoke and when she looked at me. I couldn't deny the way she made me blush, like no one had before. She was perfect in every single way, and that was terrifying. She was a woman, and so was I, which meant it was impossible to feel that way about her, right?

_Wrong._ I knew it from the moment I laid eyes upon her that she was special.

It was hours before I could bring myself to move. Every muscle hurt and I regretted not moving to the comfort of my bed. I picked myself up and moved toward the dresser, hardly daring to look in it – when I did, I was horrified to see the tear-streaked face and the red eyes that stared back at me. I looked a mess, and I felt a mess. I picked up my comb and began brushing my hair, the familiar action somewhat soothing. I took deep, steady breaths and moved on to my make up. For once I was grateful for the exorbitant amount of powders that my mother had bought for me, because they seemed to be able to cover up anything and put a composed mask on my face. No one would be the wiser.

I didn't go down for dinner – I spent most of the evening reading, escaping to a fantasy world where I knew things got better. I wasn't so sure about the real world. I slept restlessly that night, nightmares plaguing my mind. I woke up sore and feeling more miserable than ever.

The next three days carried on in the exact same manner, until one morning when my mother stormed in to my room just past dawn and insisted that I get up. Why? Because Mr Elias Obelyn was coming to visit.

I moved about the house in a numb trance, letting my mother get me ready. She seemed to be ignoring our argument and acting as if nothing was wrong. She had paid no attention to me since, much to her credit. I let her do as she wanted, only moving when asked to and speaking when spoken to. However, come eleven o'clock, _he_ was here.

The bell rang out from the porch, and I knew there was no escape now. I sat carefully perched on the edge of a lounge chair, where my mother had told me to sit. I looked a picture of perfection, except for the expression on my face – I refused to look even remotely happy with the situation, at least until I had to. I waited impatiently while Mama answered the door with Papa, and wished a swift death upon the man whom I was about to meet. Unfortunately, I heard greetings being exchanged in the foyer and then footsteps coming towards the day room. I looked at the tea and cakes that were set out in front of me and considered eating them all myself. See how much Mr Elias wants to marry me then.

As they came into view, I saw Elias Obelyn for the first time. He was tall, thin, and walked with an air of… arrogance. There was nothing I disliked more than _arrogance._ He looked like he owned everything, and he knew it. He wasn't unpleasant to look at, however I didn't find him even mildly attractive. His face was too sharp, too calculating. Nothing like the soft, angelic features of-

"Santana, dear, why don't you stand up and greet Mr Obelyn here." My mother's grating voice cut through my train of though and I looked away from the imposing man in front of me. I stood, watching him the whole time, attempting to further judge his character. He wasn't off to a good start, in my books. I bobbed my head in acknowledgement.

"How do you do, sir," I said curtly. My mother gave me a sideways glare and I reluctantly put a smile on my face.

He replied quickly, and appeared to be sizing me up too. I think he liked what he saw. "I am very well, Miss Lopez. I trust that you are too?" I gave another small nod and looked back to my mother to see her looking more at ease now.

"Please, sit down, Mr Obelyn," Papa said from beside me, taking his own seat. We all moved to a spot surrounding the low table, which sat in the centre of the arrangement of lounges and sofas. I was grateful for the comfortable velvet, something soothing as I sat tensely among these people. They were my family; I should feel comfortable, but I didn't. I ran my hand over the fabric, loving the way it bristled a little beneath my fingers. I had always loved velvet. I pulled my hands back into my lap and turned my winning smile to the man across from me.

"Help yourself to the tea and cakes, Mr Obelyn. Now, may I ask what brings you to this part of the country?" My mother asked our guest.

"I'm here visiting a friend, Madam. I'll be here only a couple of weeks, then I'm afraid I must head back to Sussex." He spoke like he looked. It was a little nasal and he honestly looked like he thought he was the best thing since chocolate. I felt the urge to assure him that he wasn't.

"What a shame. Well, I'm sure that's more than enough time to get to know my daughter," she said with her famous persuasive expression. I felt my face tighten and tried to nod in agreement instead of vomiting.

"Quite." He looked me up and down, then back to my face. "I'd love to spend some time with Santana." I hated the man more and more with every word that came out of his horrid mouth. He got a smug look on his face, like I was already some done deal, and I would be easy to woo. _Just you try, limpet._

My father spoke up again, "Santana, why don't you tell Mr Obelyn about youself." He gave me a meaningful look and I picked up a piece of cake. What was there to tell? _Hi, I'm Santana. I love reading and calling people horrible things in my head as well as out loud. I hate you. And mankind in general._

The bell chose that exact moment to ring yet again, and I have never in my entire life been more grateful for an interruption. I leapt up from my spot before anyone else could react, and offered to get the door.

"I'll get it, Mama and Papa, you stay here. I'm sure Mr Obelyn doesn't want to hear about me." I tried to sound modest, but probably came off as ice cold. Good.

My mother looked irritated at the whole situation. "Who on earth could that be?" She asked. I admitted I had no idea either but whoever it was, they were now possibly my favourite person on the planet. My father looked like he was about to protest to my leaving, but I was out of the room before he could say anything. I could be fast when I wanted to be. I made my way to the front door and sighed a little, fixing myself up before I opened the door. I pulled the handle and swung it open.

There, standing on my porch, was Brittany. If possible, she looked even more beautiful than when I last saw her. My face softened and a genuine smile crept onto my lips. I felt that now familiar fluttering in my stomach, that knot in my abdomen. Her bright blue eyes were looking right back at me, her lips curled up slightly as she watched me.

"Can I come in?" She asked softly, still looking me in the eyes. I realised I was still standing in the doorway, one hand resting on the wood and my gaze locked with her own. I hurriedly stood aside, silently welcoming her into the house. I felt the air move slightly as she breezed past me, leaving her perfume to swirl behind her. She smelled heavenly. She stopped once she was inside, turning to face me again.

I swallowed before speaking. "So, Brittany, what brings you here?" I asked her, surprising myself with the steadiness of my voice.

"Actually, I was hoping to speak to all of you. I'd like to extend another invitation to you and your family for a ball next week." And she came all this way just to tell us? Why not just send a note, like last time? It was as if she could read my thoughts when she continued speaking. "I'm sure you're wondering why I came personally. I felt it polite. And I may or may not have wanted to see a certain member of this household again." She had a sheepish expression on her face.

Did she fancy one of my brothers? _Oh, please no_. That would be incredibly awkward. Especially if it was Morys.

"Who?" I asked, bewildered and dreading her answer. She looked at me funny for a moment before answering.

"You, who else?" She said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. My knees felt a little weak. She had wanted to see me. Well, and deliver an invitation, but she had wanted to see _me._ Now the butterflies were having an outright war in my stomach.

"O…Oh," I stuttered. _Pull yourself together, Lopez._ "Really?"

She nodded fervently. "Yes, is that surprising?"

Not knowing how to answer that, I turned to lead her into the lounge where I knew my parents, and Mr Obelyn, would be waiting to find out who our mystery guest was. "Through here," I said over my shoulder. She followed me closely, looking around the house as we moved down the hallway. I loved the way her eyes roamed the walls, drinking in every detail. She looked like she was committing everything she saw to memory.

We rounded the arch that led into the room where I had been earlier, and I saw the look on my mother's face change from exasperated to chastened in a second as she saw who our company was. I smirked inwardly at seeing her put in her place. Both my parents stood in respect and I stood still as Brittany moved next to me. She was standing close, our arms almost touching. I could feel the heat radiating off of her body, and I felt myself longing to be pressed against her. I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, stunned at myself. I noticed that Mr Obelyn had failed to stand or acknowledge Brittany's presence. Like I was going to let _that_ slide.

"Mr Obelyn, this is Lady Brittany Pierce, the duke of Devonshire's daughter." I was enraged when he had the audacity to give Brittany an indignant look before standing in the same fashion as my Mama and Papa. He gave a slight bow, and I found myself in disbelief at his actions. He actually thought he was _above bowing to nobility. _Even if she hadn't been nobility, he should have stood and bowed simply because the was a beautiful woman in his presence. Yet his arrogance was so great that he simply didn't feel he needed to show any kind of respect for another human being. Well fuck him.

Brittany spoke from beside me. "I am terribly sorry, as I appear to have interrupted something." She looked a little nervous now as the silence grew. I then found myself doing something incredibly stupid and impulsive, but I wanted to make her feel more comfortable. I placed my hand lightly on the small of her back, attempting to be encouraging. All I achieved was tingles thoughout my whole body, and a flinch from her. I removed my hand as quickly as I had placed it, realising what I was doing, and moved away from her. I saw a blush creep on to her cheeks, and she seemed to be struggling for her words now. _God going, you embarrassed her._ I felt terrible and incredibly idiotic. _Why did I do that?_ Sometimes I wanted to slap myself. Actually, always. Although I couldn't deny how much I had wished I could keep my hand there. The other people in the room seemed oblivious to our little exchange, which was lucky, because it would have seemed exceedingly strange to any observers. Hell, it felt exceedingly strange for me and probably even more so for her.

In an moment, Brittany seemed to have found her words again. "I just came by to invite you to another ball next Friday. I felt I should extend the invitation personally. I hope you don't mind that I visited unannounced." She said all of this in a perfectly refined manner.

"Not at all, Lady Pierce. We'd be delighted to return to Chatsworth. I can assure you we will be there," came my mother's polite response. My father nodded in agreement.

"Wonderful," Brittany said brightly. Her cheer faded a little as she looked around the room, another uncomfortable silence setting in.

"Would you like to stay for tea, my dear?" Papa asked, extending a motion towards the table on which sat a plate nearly full of desserts and a teapot.

"Oh, no, I wouldn't want to intrude any more than I already have, but thank you for the offer. I look forward to seeing you next Friday." I looked over at her and she at me, and a silent agreement passed between us. We turned on our heels and left the room. I called back, "I'll see Lady Pierce out."

We walked back to the door stopped in front of it, facing one another again. I looked at the ground, unable to meet her eyes. "I'm very sorry about Mr Obelyn, he's extraordinarily rude and rather arrogant," I apologised for our visitor.

"Oh, don't worry about it. I couldn't care less what he thought. Why should I care for the attentions of someone who clearly doesn't care for mine? And I agree, he was rude." She was so _nice_, maybe I could learn a thing or two from her. I let my eyes wander the walls for a second, but eventually I had to look at her. She was watching me, as usual, carefully and somewhat bemusedly.

"Well, I'd best be off then." She moved to open the door, but I reached for it before she could grab the handle.

"Allow me," I said awkwardly, pulling it open and motioning for her to step through. It was worth it, if only for the expression on her face. She smile she gave me as she passed was nothing short of blindingly adorable.

"Any bets that Mr Not Nice wouldn't have done that for me," she grinned.

"Any bets he wouldn't do that for anyone." I rolled my eyes, but smiled a little at her comment. I stepped out the door after her, ready to see her off, but she wasn't leaving yet.

"Was there something else?" I asked her.

She hesitated a moment, but seemed to think better of whatever she had been going to say. "No, have a wonderful day, Santana. I hope Mr…"

"Obelyn," I supplied.

"Yes, Mr Obelyn… doesn't ruin it for you." She gave a little nod as she said this.

"It's alright, your visit has more than made up for it." I was unable to stop the words before they came tumbling out of my mouth. _Wow, way to go, you thundering dunderhead._ She didn't seem fazed, though; in fact, she looked happy. Well, as long as she was happy, I was happy. If not a little embarrassed.

"I'm glad," she said with a smile.

"Thank you for coming by, Brittany. And thank you for the invitation," I called as she turned away and began walking towards the carriage that was waiting for her. She looked over her shoulder and gave me a small wave.

"Goodbye, Santana." Soon, the coach was out of sight and I went back inside, having been so distracted by a certain blonde that I had momentarily forgotten about by awaiting doom. I considered sneaking up the stairs rather than returning to the lounge, but I knew I would pay for it later if I did. I sighed heavily and went back to where Papa seemed to be having some quiet conversation with Mr Obelyn. They moved apart as I entered, but Papa moved towards the door I had just come through with Mama in tow.

"Santana, Mr Obelyn would like a word with you. We'll be in the dining room." Before I could do a thing, they were out of the room and I was standing there, alone, with the most asinine man on the planet. Absolutely _glorious_.

He looked at me for a moment before taking a few long strides towards where I was standing, and stopped only a few feet away. I looked up at him, and he looked right back down at me. I was a little intimidated my his size, though I would never, in a million years, let on.

"Miss Lopez," he began in his nasal drone, "I have just spoken to your father and I know it's a little abrupt, but would you do me the honour of returning to Sussex with me when I leave? A beautiful young woman like yourself is a rarity, and I do not wish to let the opportunity of finding myself an amicable wife pass. So, will you?" _Amicable? Good one. _He looked at me expectantly, but in a way that made me think he was expecting a yes. Did I really look that simple?

I, on the other hand, had expected right, and was prepared should he make this offer.

"No," I said simply. He looked taken aback but gathered himself, and then he just looked offended. Good.

"Excuse me?" Did he think I'd made a mistake?

"No," I repeated, this time slower so his primitive brain might understand the small word. I added a touch of venom, just enough that I didn't sound rude, but decided. I watched emotions flit over his face. I don't think he was used to rejection in any way.

"But, your mother and father have approved it," he said, as if this would change anything.

"Well I didn't." I was being short with him, hoping he would get the message and stop being so stuck up about it. He could deal with it.

"But, but…" she spluttered, trying to think of a retort. He couldn't.

"I do not know you, Mr Obelyn. I do not wish to go away with you, let alone so soon, and become your wife. I think we're done here; I wouldn't wish to keep you." I moved swiftly from the room, towards the front door. Before my parents could catch me, I was outside and away down the drive. I could hear them trying to defuse the situation I'd caused, which I knew couldn't have been good. I felt rather pleased with myself for such a successful veto of his offer, and despite the punishment and interrogation I knew would come later I felt myself smile, and I began to run. I slowed down once I reached the road, deciding to follow it a little way down before I made any move back towards the house. I kept well out of the way as Elias's carriage passed on its way back to town, thankful that he hadn't seen me.

I ambled along the side of the road for a while, willing away the unpleasant feeling that encounter had left and humming quietly to myself. Then something caught my eye – a glint, something shining in the sunlight. It must have been something metallic. A spur, perhaps; many riders came this way. I bent over to get a closer look at the small object. It was a necklace, a gold locket to be more specific. I pulled it from the grass and held it up for inspection. It was a heart shape, and had intricate and tiny engravings on it. I thought a moment before opening it, but decided I would have no way of knowing whose it was if I didn't. I struggled with the tiny thing before I succeeded in prying it open, and I was astonished to see the engraving on the inside.

_Brittany S. Pierce_.

I could not escape her. What were the odds of me finding her locket by the road? For goodness' sake, what were the odds of her dropping it here? Something told me that the powers that be just liked messing with me. I turned it over between my fingers, checking again to see if I'd read it right. Yes, it definitely said her name. It looked special, too. I wondered if she knew she was missing it?

I gripped the necklace tightly in my hand and decided that I would return it to her tomorrow. If she had noticed it was gone, she was probably anxious to get it back. I felt a headache coming on, and now I had no choice but to go home again. I'd probably been gone more than an hour.

I gathered up my pride and returned to the house, bracing myself for whatever onslaught of parental rage and disappointment I was about to receive. And luckily so, because as soon as I set foot in the house, Mama was yelling at me.

"Santana Lopez! What in the world were you thinking? You turned down a perfectly good offer of marriage, after your father and I approved it!" She looked furious, and I cowered in front of the door.

"Leticiana, let me handle this," Papa said as he stepped forward. Mama stood down a little, but she was silently fuming in the background. "Mija, I am very disappointed in you. More than I can describe." He looked it too. His stare was withering, yet at the same time, endlessly weary. For the first time since I'd turned Mr Obelyn away, I felt bad. Not because I had refused him, but because I could see how much it would mean to my parents if I were to marry him. I imagined the security it would bring for them. But none of this could matter to me in making my decision. If I agreed to marry that man, I would never forgive myself.

"I—I'm sorry Papa." I kept my eyes downcast. "I couldn't do it. I hate him," I said honestly.

"What are you talking about? You don't even know him."

"I know him as much as, if not more than, I ever care to know such a man, Papa. And if you don't respect my desire for happiness, I'm ashamed to call you my father." I knew this would effectively put a stopper in whatever arguments he had ready. You see, my father cared about me. That's why he was so disappointed that I hadn't agreed to something that was, in his eyes, in my best interests. But if he knew that I would be unhappy, he wouldn't force me. My mother was a different story altogether.

"Go upstairs, Santana," he sighed, looking defeated. I could see the fight leave his eyes, and I was thankful that he was letting it go, at least for now. I slipped past my mother, still fearing that she would lash out at me, but my father was already ushering her away. She broke down and he tried to comfort her, but I couldn't bring myself to feel sorry for her. She was my mother, and she didn't care about what I felt. That hurt more than I wanted it to, because over the years I'd learnt to shut her out, to ignore her judgemental comments and what she told me I could and couldn't do.

I traipsed up the stairs and went to my room, where I seemed to have lived by myself for the past couple of days. I was already lying on my bed when I realised I still had Brittany's locket grasped tightly in my hand. I unfolded my cramping fingers and stroked the metal a little; come to think of it, I had seen her wearing it. It obviously meant something to her, and it _was_ rather beautiful. I lay there, looking at the ceiling and thinking about her for what seemed like hours, and eventually drifted into a restless semi-sleep state. I would return the locket in the morning, but until then I merely wanted to forget everything. I floated between levels of consciousness until I there was nothing but dreams.

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_**Author's Note: **__Don't worry all shall be well with the world in due course… Thanks for reading, and I really appreciate hearing what you thought :)_


	5. Heart in a Locket

_**Author's Note: **__In case you forgot what happened last chapter, Santana refused Mr Obelyn the Asshole and then found Brittany's locket on the roadside by some felicitous twist of fate. Yeah. So are you ready for some more? I present to you, Chapter Five._

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The locket was still in my hand when I woke up. I uncurled my fingers, which were cramping from being stuck in one position for so long, and let it fall onto the sheets beside me. My bed was warm and comfortable, and in that moment, I was a child again. These covers would keep all the monsters out, keep anything from harming me; things like my mother. I remembered our last conversation and sighed, hoping that it had blown over throughout the night. I knew it wasn't likely, as my mother could hold a grudge for years if someone irritated her badly enough. I turned over and prepared to face my doom as I rolled out of bed. I flopped gracelessly onto the floor; it took me a moment to get my footing but I stood and extricated myself from the layers of sheets. I picked up the necklace and slipped it into the pocket of my nightgown, where it would be safe for a while.

I went to the bathroom where there was a tub of hot water waiting as usual, and I thanked Scarlett silently for always having it ready. I sat back into the water and let the warmth soothe my aching muscles, willing the pain and fatigue to just wash away. I scrubbed myself listlessly, not feeling the need to rush. That was, until the water got cold. When I got out, I felt suitably relaxed to go downstairs and face whatever the day decided to throw at me. Except for another day like yesterday.

I dressed myself, transferring the necklace to a new pocket so I could keep it with me. My hair was wet, so it didn't really want to do anything I tried to make it do. I settled on pulling it back into a soft, loose bun at the back of my neck. I looked presentable.

No one else was in the dining room when I got there, so I went to the shelf in the corner and pulled out a well-worn copy of _Clarissa_. It was a favourite of mine. I found I could relate to Clarissa very well, unfortunately. Apart from the whole thing about getting tricked into joining a brothel and being abducted. I hoped I could never relate to that…

"Morning, Santana," Peter said as he strolled in to the room. I nodded distractedly from my seat, not bothering to look up from the page I was on. The action was just picking up. I could feel his eyes on me as he sat down opposite me, and I finally had to break my eyes away from the text to glare at him.

"What?" I asked, annoyed.

"Your hair looks nice." That was all he said, but I could tell there was more.

"Thanks, but what are you really staring at me for?" I was being short with him, I knew, but if he wanted to say something about yesterday then he should just spit it out.

He was silent for a moment before he answered, with a question. "Are you okay?" _Ugh, why can't people just leave me alone? _As much as I loved my brother, I didn't feel like talking about it. If we could all just forget, the world would be a better place.

"Yes, I'm fine. Why do you ask?" I said haughtily.

I could see the wary look in his eyes as he considered letting it go, but he didn't. "I heard about yesterday." There it was.

"And what exactly did you hear about yesterday?"

"Erm, I heard what happened. About Mr Obelyn and everything. All I can say is that I'm so glad you didn't say yes," he said with poorly disguised relief. I smiled and nodded.

"Try telling that to Mama. She thinks I am demon spawn now, most likely. She'll be over it as soon as she finds some other halfwit to con into marrying me." I went back to my book and he seemed to take this as the end of the conversation, which I was most grateful for. I was reading for a short while longer before my parents came in with Morys and the cooks served breakfast. It was a nice breakfast, with eggs, toast, tea, and some breakfast meats. We ate in tense silence before my mother decided she'd had enough.

"How are we all this morning?" She asked everyone around the table. There were some nods and some hums, but that was all. She took another sip of her tea and turned to me.

"Santana, feeling a little better this morning? I hope you've been thinking about your actions yesterday. I'd like you to fix things before Mr Obelyn leaves. In fact, I _insist_. If you know what's good for you, you'll say yes to him." She looked at me disdainfully over the top of her cup and waited for me to oppose her.

I got straight to the point. "I don't want to talk to that insufferable man again. He is a waste of my time and quite frankly, I don't care what he thinks of me," I deadpanned, hoping to put a stopper in the topic. When I saw she was about to speak again, I jumped in with something I knew would make her happier. "Mama, I need to go to Chatsworth today. I have something of Lady Pierce's that I must return. I'm sure she's missing it."

I was right; her face lit up a little at the idea of an excuse to visit the Duke and his family. Our place in society was everything to her, so such a serendipitous occasion as this would surely be good news to her.

"Is that so? Well, you can have a coach to take you. At least you can do some things right," she huffed.

"What?" I was having a hard time keeping up with all her conversation, never quite knowing when she was complimenting me or insulting me.

"I mean, you seem to be getting a long with Lady Pierce quite well. It would appear that you do have at least _some_ ability to mingle with high society. That's probably the most I can ask for, out of you." Again with the confusing insults that could possibly become compliments in a twisted way.

"I see. Well, it was fate that put her locket in my hand, not me. I'll go soon after breakfast." I settled back in my seat and sipped my tea in silence until we were finished. I was subjected to Morys' infuriatingly irritating conversation with Mama for the rest of the meal, and Peter and I exchanged meaningful glances that I'm fairly certain meant we were both plotting murder. At least I was.

To say I was relieved when it was over is an understatement. I gathered myself and quickly got ready before I called to Mama to have the coach ready. The weather wasn't too nice today, it was cold and the sky looked darker. _Just like my mood. _I pulled the locket out and looked at it once more before shoving it back into my pocket and hurrying down the stairs. Safe to say I was more than anxious to get out of the house, and admittedly, to see Brittany. The horses were waiting there with the closed carriage, I assume for in the case of it raining. I looked up at the sky, at the looming grey clouds, and willed away all the damned turmoil in my life. If possible, the sky darkened even further.

Kindly, the rain held off for the time being and I got to Chatsworth quickly, locket in hand and unable to keep the tingling feeling from taking over my body. This was ridiculous. I really needed to have a good, long talk with myself.

I scaled the front steps slowly, giving myself time before I reached the door and had to face talking to people. _Brittany people._ I smoothed out the folds in my dress and stood awkwardly on the porch, debating whether to ring the bell right away or to knock. I decided on knocking, not wanting to be obnoxiously loud. I rapped on the door a few times and then stood back and waited for it to open. I wondered who would be on the other side. I hoped it would be Brittany. A minute later, the door was pulled open and there stood a maid, looking slightly overworked and more than a little tired. She straightened when she saw me, politely nodding and quickly asked who I was.

"Uh, Santana. Santana Lopez. I'm looking for… Lady Pierce. Brittany?" I asked cautiously. Was I allowed to say that? Was I allowed to just wander up to the Duke's house and ask to see someone? A horrible thought hit me – what if she was out? I would feel ridiculous for having come here and ending up with no real reason for doing so. I crossed my fingers surreptitiously and hoped she was here.

"Certainly, Miss. Is there something in particular that you would like her to know?" Well, why would I be here otherwise? Couldn't I just see her?

At that moment, who should come down the main staircase but Brittany, in all her impeccable beauty. I sighed quietly as I watched her hurrying towards us, a huge smile on her face. I couldn't help but grin too.

"Santana!" She greeted me happily as she reached me, taking my hand between hers and squeezing it a moment before letting it drop again. I could feel the tingles of warmth left where she had touched me and I'm sure I shivered visibly. "You can go now Jane, Santana is here to see me,' she said dismissively before turning her attention back to me. "I'm glad you came. I was hoping you'd take me up on my offer some time soon.

I momentarily forgot the situation and unfortunately honest words tumbled from my mouth. "I couldn't stay away for long," I said, and tried to play it off as a humorous remark. I laughed somewhat nervously and I'm almost certain that she smirked.

"I'm quite irresistible, you know," she smiled teasingly, lifting one eyebrow perfectly. _Oh, I do know, _I thought. I had no idea why I missed her when she wasn't there, why I stumbled over my words around her, or why she made me blush all the time, but I liked it. I liked the way she made me feel. This was potentially dangerous.

"Well, as true as that may be," I played along with her banter, "I actually had a reason for coming here this morning." I reached into my dress to grasp the gold chain.

"You mean other than seeing me?" She pouted adorably, and I looked back down at my hand that was fiddling in my pocket.

"Well, I'll admit, that was _one_ reason, but I have something for you. Something of yours." I decided I needed to gain a little confidence; this blushing and stammering thing never got anyone anywhere. Well, anywhere good at least. I finally pulled out the locket and held it out for her. Her eyes widened and so did her smile.

"Oh my goodness, you found it!" She said, seemingly overjoyed that I'd found her necklace. Well, so was I, if I got to see her this happy.

"I did, on the road. What are the chances?" I dropped it into her outstretched palm and watched her face, seeing every tiny flicker of emotion that crossed it. She was just so _beautiful._ I was still mesmerised when I felt arms encircle me and a warm body pressed against my own, and I realised she was hugging me. I stood rigid for a moment before I melted into her arms. She was soft and she smelled amazing.

"Thankyou," she whispered, her lips close to my ear. I felt a shudder run up my spine at the feel of her body around me and I'm sure she felt it too, because she laughed softly. "It's a little cold in here, isn't it? Please, come with me to the drawing room, the fire is going." She pulled back and met my eyes for a moment before leading the way through an adjoining room and into the drawing room, which was more or less the same as when I last saw it. It seemed slightly different lit by day rather than the light of candles and lamps, more open and homely. Everything was perfectly aligned and it made me feel uncomfortable touching anything. Something would probably break, so I kept my hands clasped together in front of me and refrained from putting myself in proximity to anything valuable looking. So, I pretty much just stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, wondering what I was doing here now that I'd returned the locket.

"You can sit, you know," Brittany said half-jokingly. I nodded weakly and sat on the closest seat, a small sofa with about twenty plush cushions. I adjusted them behind my back, trying to get comfortable, but there were too many of the damn things. I decided to just leave it and turned back around to see Brittany watching me with an amused expression.

"Is something wrong?" I asked her tentatively, if not somewhat indignantly. She seemed to think this even funnier.

"Are you alright with the cushions there, Santana, you appear to be struggling." I scoffed and tried to maintain my dignity as the aforementioned supposed 'objects of comfort' made _uncomfortable_ lumps behind me.

"Perfectly fine, thank you. Isn't this an excessive number for one couch?" I didn't think this was a particularly good way to gain her favour, and mentally reprimanded myself for my stupidity.

She didn't look any less amused though, so either I wasn't making such an ass of myself as I thought or she was just very tolerant. Most likely the latter. "I tried to tell Mother that, but she didn't want to hear it. You can move to a different place if you're not comfortable." I quickly looked around for another seat nearby, but before I could lament the lack of suitably close chairs, she patted the spot beside her. "Come over and sit by me. There's plenty of room, and not too many cushions here." Her eyes were sparkling as she gauged my expression, and it seemed that I had no choice. I moved over and sat next to her, leaving a little distance between us as I turned my body slightly to face hers, and she mirrored me. The fire was burning at the end of the room, radiating warmth into the chilled air. There was a strangely comfortable silence for a while before she spoke.

"How have you been?" She asked gently. I kept my eyes on the fire and answered her.

"Since yesterday?" I joked. "I've been alright. How about you?" I moved my eyes up to hers. Now it was her turn to watch the flickering flames.

"Wonderful. And now even better since you're here," she answered, finally making eye contact. I wondered what I was seeing in those deep blue pools when she looked at me – was it curiosity? I felt the familiar tingles in my abdomen and she shifted slightly so her body was facing mine even more.

"Really?" I asked her disbelievingly. "I made your day better?" I said it with a hint of sarcasm. Why on Earth _I_ of all people would make her day better, I didn't know. She most likely thought I was crazy. Hell, even I thought I was going mad. But mad with _what_? How could I describe what I was feeling? Was Brittany feeling it too? No, impossible.

"Do you doubt it, Santana?" She looked at me with an odd expression on her face, one of slight confusion. She cocked her head to the side and furrowed her brow. It was one of the most endearing faces I had even seen anyone make. There were small crinkles at the bridge of her nose and I nodded, barely visibly. "Why? You're my friend, and friends enjoy one another's company. Don't you enjoy mine?" She pouted. I was still reeling over the fact that she had called me her friend. I didn't really have friends, well, besides Quinn. I got a warm feeling in my chest when she said she enjoyed my company. Of course I enjoyed hers; more than she knew.

"Absolutely, it's impossible not to," I said, a genuine smile gracing my lips. She beamed at me, and all I could think about was that _I_ was the one that made her smile. I didn't know much about what I was feeling, but I was certain that I wanted to make her smile again tomorrow and the next day and then again every day for the rest of my life. She was even _more_ beautiful when she was happy, if that was humanly possible. I had to ask though. "Do you really consider me your friend?" I questioned tentatively.

"Yes, I do. I mean, I know we only just met, but that doesn't matter, does it? I'm sorry, of course you don't want to be my friend, silly me. Santana, I'm sorry, you can go if you want to I just thought—" I cut her off with a single finger pressed to her lips, effectively closing off any further opportunity for her to speak. She blinked, obviously startled, and stared at me.

"You're rambling, Britt. I'd love to be your friend." I withdrew my finger, but she was still staring at me, a slight pink tinge now on her cheeks. She looked at my hand then back to my eyes, and smiled.

"You called me Britt." She was still smiling widely as she said this, and I realised my mistake. In a lapse of concentration, I _had_ called her _Britt_. I sat there, mortified, while she watched me. She was probably silently judging me, thinking how damned disrespectful I was. I leapt into my apology, frantically attempting to cover for myself.

"I—I was, I meant…uh… Oh I'm so sorry I should have just stuck with Lady Brittany, or better, Lady Pierce! Please, I—" This time it was my turn to be silenced, and she did it the same way that I had stopped her. I felt her finger on my lips and I'm sure I looked quite shocked. _She was touching my lips_. Oh, be quiet, brain.

"You're rambling, San." She said gently, smirking at me. Her hand lingered a little, but she pulled it back and placed it in her lap. Her gaze became careful, and I could see her trying to assess my reaction. For the most part, I was pleasantly astonished.

"Touché," I responded playfully, and she seemed to relax a little.

"Indeed."

"So you're not upset that I called you Britt? It just slipped out; I'm sorry if it was disrespectful…" I trailed off awkwardly, hoping not to lose the light mood that we had just regained.

"Not at all, I'm happy that you did. It means that we are real friends," she said matter-of-factly.

"If you say so," I laughed softly, and quickly began wondering when I became so nice. The only thing I ever laughed at was Morys being mocked by my brother and I. Yet here I was, unable to control my smile and giggling like an imbecile. She had this strange way of making me feel… _happy_.

"How was your guest yesterday? I'm sorry again for interrupting." I was brought back to reality when the weight of my marriage proposal coupled my mothers insistence that I made amends hit me. My smile faltered and she looked concerned. "Not so well?" She guessed.

"Definitely not. The long and the short of it is... Mr Obelyn asked me to marry him." A look of shock crossed Brittany's face followed by a fleeting look of sadness, before she reined her feelings in leaving only care to be seen in her delicate features. She reached out and touched my arm, which was resting in my lap, and I fought the urge to take hold of her hand. Fortunately, I didn't have to worry for long because she took the initiative herself. She locked her fingers around my own and looked me in the eyes.

"What did you say?" She asked tenderly.

"No, of course. I hate the man. That doesn't change the fact that my Mama wants me to and will most likely stop at nothing on her quest to marry me off." I sighed dejectedly and she squeezed my hand.

"Don't let her make any of those decisions for you, alright? You're a strong and independent young woman, and I'm glad you said no. You deserve so much better." I melted at her words and hesitantly squeezed her hand back.

"That's probably the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me," I admitted. It was true. Mama was cruel; she never complimented me or praised anything I did, even as a child. Papa wasn't cruel; he was just distant. His work tore him away from the family often. Peter and I were close, but we didn't really talk seriously about a lot of things. There was no hope of Morys even thinking a nice thought about me, let alone voicing it. And Quinn… she had a hard time complimenting me. We respected one another, but we were more similar than either of us liked to admit, therefore we both found feelings a little hard to deal with when positive ones were concerned.

Brittany was different. She didn't think twice about kind words, and that was a quality I wasn't sure if I envied or not. I decided that I did a little; it would probably make my relationships with other people a whole lot better, not to mention easier. I was certain that there wasn't a soul on the whole Earth that wouldn't love Brittany from the moment they met her.

She looked at me rather incredulously. "Really? But there are plenty of nice things to say about you, I'm only stating the obvious," she said, as though she truly believed her words. I couldn't hold back the small laugh that came out; _that's a joke. _To be honest, I wasn't an agreeable person at the best of times.

"Thanks, but I think you'd change your mind of you got to know me better," I said, trying to turn it into a joke but really just sounding deflated.

"Santana, you'd have to let me." She looked me right in the eyes, some silent question evident in those blue orbs of hers. "How about I tell you nice things to make up for all the times you haven't heard them?"

I was a little surprised, but in a good way. If she could see the good in me, well then, maybe there was a chance for me after all. Perhaps I wasn't as stone hearted as I felt. _Oh, who am I kidding._ Getting emotion from me was like getting Excalibur from the rock. But maybe, just maybe, Brittany would be my Arthur.

When I didn't say anything, she looked a little apprehensive, and I softened immediately. "Britt, you're doing enough already," I said truthfully. "You always seem to know what to say, unlike me," I scoffed. She smiled, looking down at our hands which were still joined.

"Well then I know what to say right now. You're beautiful, Santana. The most beautiful person I've ever seen." _No, that's you, _I thought. The way she said it was so genuine and so sweet that my heart began racing even more than it already was. Her expression was shy but tender, and only served to make my cheeks redden to an extent I didn't know was humanly possible.

"I-I'm not rea-" She cut me off again, shaking her head.

"I don't want to hear you protest. Can't you just accept the compliment?" She pleaded. "Don't deny it, because it's true. Maybe you don't see it, but I do and I'm sure everyone else does, too. I mean it." _What did I do to deserve a friend like her? Maybe my unfair share of terrible days is finally being avenged. _She guided my chin with her free hand, pulling my face up to look at her. "Do you understand?" I nodded feebly and she released my hand. "Good. Now come with me, and we'll get some tea, how does that sound?"

"That sounds perfect," I said as we stood, allowing her to lead me to wherever said tea was, which happened to be a smaller room near the kitchen. She poured each of us a cup, asking me how I took it.

"Milk, no sugar," I answered. "I personally don't think tea should be so sweet."

"I like sugar in everything." She giggled and replaced the pot and strainer on the table, handing me my cup. The china was delicate, and there was the fear again that I would break something. I held it carefully, watching the levels of liquid rise and fall around the cup as I swirled it. I was watching it so intently that I didn't notice when The Duchess entered the room.

"Ah, Miss Lopez." I was startled by the sudden intrusion on my reverie, and I stopped swirling my tea abruptly, spilling a little of it over the side. I yanked my hand back as the boiling drink hit my skin, and placed the cup back down on the table in front of me. I brushed myself off embarrassedly and thanked Brittany quietly when she handed me a napkin. "How nice of you to drop by. I trust you are well?" She looked so refined; the way she held herself and the way she spoke just screamed of highest society. I wondered at Brittany's more carefree nature, and what her mother felt about her choice of _friend_. She seemed pleasant enough though, so I deemed it safe to answer without fearing for my ability to form words.

"Absolutely, your grace." I bowed my head slightly in respect. Whenever it came to social situations, I kind of just had to swallow my pride and be courteous, as much as I disliked feeling subordinate. But I was, and I had to accept that. She nodded back at me and smiled with tight lips. Everything about her was so practised and professional, yet beneath the cool exterior, I'm sure she had to be nicer than my mother. _Anyone_ had to be nicer than my mother.

Now the silence was beginning to get uncomfortable, so I took another sip of my tea.

"What brings you here, dear?" She asked politely.

I turned my face back up to look at her before replying. "I was just returning Brit- I mean, Lady Pierce's locket. I saw Brittany's face fall a little out of the corner of my eye, but I just didn't know what her mother would think if I called her daughter by her first name. It wasn't normally polite, was it? God, I was so inadequate. This was why it didn't do to ignore every lesson my mother tried to give me on public behaviour. Believe me when I say I tried the first few times, but when she got to 'how many peas can fit on an entrée fork in one mouthful', I tuned out. I got the strange feeling that was five though.

Cringing inwardly at my own incapabilities, I tried to put on a brave face and converse like a normal human being. I think the mission was successful when after a minute or so of seemingly harmless interrogation, she turned with a smile and left. I looked back at Brittany, who was stifling a giggle behind her teacup, and tried to keep an indignant grimace off my face.

"That went well," I muttered to myself, somewhat sarcastically.

"It's alright, she likes you. A lot of people who visit just get a disdainful look and a nod of acknowledgement." She seemed happy about this, however I still wasn't convinced.

"Well, I'm not exactly the most eloquent of people," I sighed, but finished my tea in silence. A few times I caught her looking at me briefly, and I myself had to do a quick aversion of my eyes on several occasions to avoid awkward eye contact.

"As long as you have something interesting to say, it doesn't quite matter how you say it," she mused after a while. Beautiful _and _wise.

"I suppose... but I still think that it doesn't say much for someone if they can't form a coherent sentence." She nodded briefly, and I couldn't tell if she was agreeing with or just recognising my opinion. Considering that I sometimes turned into a useless, blubbering lump in her presence, I wondered if she cared that I sounded foolish. If my current assumptions about her personality were right, I'm sure that even if she did she wouldn't say anything. I would probably chew out anyone who lost the ability to speak just from looking at me; I can't help but let people know when they're failing to impress.

"More tea?" She asked softly.

"No, but thank you. It was lovely," I regained some of my former 'confidence' that I had decided I would project, dispelling the timid and subdued Santana that had appeared in the presence of the Duchess.

"Okay," she replaced the pot on the table carefully and I did the same with my now empty cup. With nothing much else to do now, I played with the fabric of my dress and looked around the room.

"Hey, San..." My head automatically snapped up to look at her when she said my name. "Do you think you could help me put the locket on? I've missed it. I used to wear it all the time, and I kind of can't put it on by myself." She shrugged a little as she said it. I couldn't really refuse, could I?

"Sure, I'm good with necklace clasps. They're fiddly." Oh dear Lord above, save me from my own betraying mouth. That was quite possible the most idiotic thing I could have said in that moment. I should have just gone with 'yes'.

She didn't seem to think it was a strange thing to say, she just smiled and pulled the locket from where she'd been keeping it.

Which happened to be her chest.

As in, _between her breasts_.

I opened my mouth a little, then clamped it shut again for fear of yet another betrayal. I hadn't really noticed the lack of pockets on her dress, and had obviously not noticed when she had decided that her bosom was a wonderful place to carry said jewellery either. My eyes popped a little and I watched her for only as second before looking away, feeling a strong blush creep up my cheeks. I liked to think that I didn't know why, but some things were becoming painfully obvious to me lately. It terrified me.

"San?" She asked again, as I pretended to be very interested in a spot on the carpet, which wasn't really remarkable at all but provided at least a weak excuse to look away.

"Oh, uh, yes. Sorry." I moved over to stand by her seat, and she handed the the locket in her outstretched hand before standing as well and turning her back to me. She lifted the bits of hair that had fallen from her clips off her neck and waited for me to put the necklace on. The metal was still very warm, and I tried to keep my mind off of why exactly that was. She must be so warm...

I shook my head slightly to clear it and lowered the chain to sit around her neck, easily doing the clasp up. I wasn't lying when I said I was good with them. My hand brushed against the smooth skin at the nape of her neck for only a moment before I pulled it away abruptly. She turned her head slightly to the side and down, looking at me in a way I can only guess that she thought to be surreptitious. She spun to face me and I moved back a little and smiled.

"There you are," I said shakily.

"Thank you, it's so nice to have it back. How can I ever repay you?" She said earnestly. Did I detect a hint of sly humour in her question? Dream on, Lopez.

"It's nothing really, I just happened to find it," I tried as nonchalantly as possible.

"You're still my hero," she did laugh a little this time and I couldn't help but smile too, if only to smother the warm feeling I got in my chest when she said that. Suddenly she had my hand again, and chastised myself for the weakness in my knees. "Stay for lunch, please?" She looked at me adorably and I found myself nodding without even realising it.

"If you want me to..." she grinned victoriously at me, and I was glad I'd agreed.

None of her other family members were there for the meal, so Brittany and I sat side by side at the large table. We spoke amicably yet trivially, and she offered that I spend the afternoon with her too. As was becoming a habit, I found myself complying with her every request; I couldn't say no to her even if I wanted to. Which, for the record, I didn't. She showed me the library, and I swear we spent the better part of the afternoon in there. The room extended stories high and was circular, with landings on each level and ladders to roll around the packed shelves.

She insisted that I show her my favourites once she discovered the well kept secret of my passion for reading, and it happened that they were all there. What I wouldn't give for a library like hers. I read to her a little from one of the best passages of _Clarissa,_ which she seemed to like. There was a yet another smoldering open fire in this room, which I was slightly worried about because of the amount of paper in the room, which we sat by for hours, just leafing through the the pages of classics. She didn't read so much, but seemed content to sit by the fire and listen. I felt more relaxed with her in that moment than I had in a very long time. She was a comforting presence, and I appreciated that she was more than happy to sit in companionable silence rather than the usual flow of conversation in my family home.

"You have a wonderful reading voice, San. You're so clever." She smiled up at me from her place on the worn but still soft carpet.

"Not really, I just always loved to read," I admitted. "Don't go around telling everyone though. It's kind of something I like to do by myself."

"Well I'm glad you're sharing it with me." She said, resting her head against the side of the chair I was occupying. I don't know exactly how long we were there, but I would have been perfectly willing to sit there forever. After a while, she broke the silence.

"Come to the music room with me," she said as she began to get up, and offered me her hand. She looked at me expectantly and I stood too, putting my book back down on the end table beside me. I took the hand that was still extended to me and let her lead me through the house to what must have been the music room. It was a large room, and was fairly empty, save for a couple of chairs and a very large grand piano in the centre of the room. It was one of those fancy French ones, not the regular upright kind. It was really quite beautiful.

"Do you play?" I asked, heading over to the piano and running my hand along the sleek dark wood.

"Yes, do you?" She sat on the small stool in front of the keyboard and looked down at the row of black and white keys.

"I never learned, really. I suppose I can play a few notes in succession but that's really as far as my talent extends," I said.

"Well, isn't that what music is? I'm sure you'd be great at it. My parents forced me to learn when I was younger, but now I'm glad. I really love to play. It's especially good as an emotional outlet. There's a song for every feeling any human has ever had, I'm sure of it." Then she began to play, and the sweet melodies that flowed from the instrument were incredible. She really _could_ play. Her fingers ghosted over the keys lithely, and I was mesmerised for the whole song by the way she seemed to be able to contort her hands into whatever strange stretch was needed to hit the right notes. She had her eyes closed and wasn't even looking at the music anymore. When she finished, she opened them and looked up at me. All I could do was smile widely and stare at her.

"That was amazing, Britt. I didn't know you could do that," I breathed. She shrugged lightly and looked modest. "You weren't even following the music."

"I wasn't playing that music," was her simple yet strangely cryptic reply.

"Well what were you playing then? It was beautiful, whatever it was," I could still hear the melody drifting in the room despite the fact that she'd finished already, mixing with the perfect harmonies.

"I just, sort of... made it up. I prefer to just play what I'm feeling." My jaw dropped.

"You... you made that up? On the spot?" I asked incredulously.

"I like to do that, yeah."

"You never cease to amaze me," I shook my head gently as I thought about all the ways in which this woman was so much different than anyone I'd ever met, in the best of ways.

"Come, sit and I'll teach you a few things." She patted the spot beside her like she had before on the sofa.

I grimaced and looked back at her pleadingly. "I was serious when I said I didn't play; I'll probably sound like a dying bird next to you."

"Don't be silly, sit down. You'll be fine. I promise I won't let the piano eat you..." She pulled me down next to her and I thudded on to the stool, while she giggled at her own joke. She was so exasperatingly cute that I could do nothing but sigh and sit tight.

"Putting your fingers on the keys is always a good place to begin," Brittany teased.

"I know, I know," I said, wiggling them and putting them on the piano, "I was just warming up, preparing myself for this. And giving you some time to adjust to how amazing I will be at this," I added. I was such a cynic. "Like this?" I asked when my hands were in place.

"Put your wrists up," she tried to explain to me, doing the same down her end of the piano. They rested so gracefully, yet mine seemed to just slump and bend awkwardly.

"I can't even get my wrist position right," I complained. She just smiled carefully and moved her own hands to my wrists, adjusting them. She pushed them up slightly and straightened my fingers. She wordlessly rearranged my hands until she was satisfied that they were correct. She withdrew her hands and moved them back up to her end. She pressed a few keys and asked me to copy; it was simple enough and I really should have been able to do it... it was just that the way her fingers moved was so distracting and entrancing. I pressed all the wrong notes and fumbled over the tune. She shook her head dramatically but smiled at the same time.

"What _am_ I going to do with you?" She said with faux exhaustion as she again moved to do it herself. My skin flared up wherever she touched me, pressing down on the right keys with my fingers. She did it a few times, and I could feel her watching me rather than the keys. I tried to stay concentrated on what my fingers were doing, or rather _her_ fingers were doing, but I was having a little trouble staying focussed. She had this inexplicable effect on me, not an unpleasant effect but an effect nonetheless. Where her skin met mine, even in the lightest, briefest of touches, I could feel my heartbeat quicken and my blood boil in my veins. I didn't know exactly what I was feeling - all I knew was that I wanted more.

I pulled my attention back to the task at hand, no pun intended, and tried hard to get the melody right. After a few tries I seemed to get the hang of it, well at least as much as someone with my low level of piano competence could.

"See? I knew you'd get it," she said proudly.

"It sounds nothing like yours," I mumbled.

"It doesn't have to. Everyone plays differently; everyone has a style."

"And my style is 'pathetic' style." My eyes rolled of their own accord.

"Oh, you're so harsh on yourself. You said you didn't even play. Now look at you, Mozart in no time!" I could hear the playful tone in her voice and I bumped my shoulder against hers. The corners of her mouth turned upwards and she bumped back, rocking me to the left. We had a little nudge war before I almost fell off the seat, which she laughed at and I scowled at.

All of a sudden, I was brought back to reality as the grandfather clock in the corner of the room chimed five o'clock. _When did it get so late? _I'd spent the entire day with Brittany, and I hadn't even realised. I didn't even care; I honestly couldn't think of a better way to spend time. I looked at Brittany who had by now noticed that the clock had caught my attention.

"It's getting late... I should really go," I said quietly, not really wanting to act on my words. "My family will be wondering where I am." I was resigned to the fact that it was time to leave, but it seemed she wasn't.

"Do you have to? Couldn't you stay for supper or something? I'm sure father wouldn't mind." She had that pleading look back in her eyes, and I was so tempted to say yes.

"Britt, I wish I didn't have to go, I really do. But I can't impose on this house any more than I already have. My mother is expecting me, anyway." I sighed apologetically for refusing her request. "But I truly did have the best day today, I promise you that." Her face lit up a little at that, making my heart flutter as she smiled.

"You'll visit again soon, won't you? I enjoyed today as well, San." She pushed her arm against mine and I pushed back softly. I looked up into her eyes to see that they were filled with hope. I nodded firmly and held out my little finger to her.

"Pinky promise," I said seriously, watching as she took my finger in her own and shook it.

"You can't go back on that now," she warned and I laughed.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I replied truthfully.

She grinned and stood, still with her pinky locked in mine. "Come on, let's go back downstairs and I'll see you out. I think it has started to rain a little." She observed the outside world through a large window, then turned back to me. She pulled me along down the hall and the staircase, only stopping when we reached the large front doors that had seemed so imposing to me when I first walked through them. Now I was able to see how they could make you feel safe, as long as you were on the right side of them.

"I wish you could stay," Brittany pouted as we reached the centre of the marble-floored entrance hall, right by the doors.

I squeezed her pinky tightly and reached for her forehead to smooth out the little wrinkles that had formed there; while adorable, they meant she was even a small bit unhappy, and that just wouldn't do. "I'll come back. I pinky-promised, remember?" I reassured her softly. She sighed and pulled me into another unexpected embrace, but this time I had the sense to respond. I wrapped my arms around her gently, if not tentatively, and rested my head on her shoulder. I breathed her in for a second before I pulled back and let go of her pinky. She stayed where she was until I moved towards the door and began to open it, when she followed and held it ajar for me to step out on to the porch.

"Santana, thank you again, for everything, "she said, sounding genuinely grateful.

"You're welcome Brittany. I'll see you soon?" I left it as a question, probably unnecessarily but still safely.

"Definitely." She nodded matter of fact-ly and I turned to walk down the steps that lead to the still waiting carriage. I thought then that an apology would probably be due to the poor driver. I stopped for a moment at the bottom of the steps and considered running down to the coach, but I turned around and looked back at Brittany. She was still standing there, as breathtaking as ever, watching me go. I straightened and looked her in the eye for a moment before I had to look down at the ground again. _Oh, just say it, you coward. You've been thinking it all day. _I swallowed the lump in my throat and said it.

"Just so you know, Brittany, I...I... think you're beautiful, too." I turned back so quickly that I didn't get to see her face and all but ran to the carriage that was waiting in the drizzle. I was proud of myself for saying it - she deserved to hear that more than anyone - but at the same time I was terrified of showing that part of me. The part of me that _does _find things beautiful and _does _want someone to share that with. I liked to keep that part of me, also known to some as my heart, under lock and key. But I had to tell her, because I meant it. She needed to hear that.

The horses pulled away and we began down the driveway. All the while I was thinking how lucky it was that we brought the coach; well, a very small part of me was thinking that. The other part couldn't take its mind off a certain blonde. By the time I reached home it was sunset, and a dusky haze had settled over the horizon. All evening, and late into the night, _she_ was the sole occupant of my thoughts. And I didn't even mind.

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_**Author's Note: **Let me know of any errors and tell me what you think... I just hope you enjoyed n_n_


	6. Where Have You Been?

_**Author's Note**__: Okay, I'm currently freezing my ass off after having sat in an overflowing creek on a 6 degrees C (43 degrees F) winter's day. I ain't even mad. Thanks for all your reviews; you guys inspire me, so I'm really glad you like the story. As for lady kisses, hold out a little, I have plans. Big plans. Enjoy chapter six, your second ball is finally here..._

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It rained for the remainder of the week. When I say rained, I mean poured. There was no reprieve from the onslaught of water that came from the angry skies, just as there was none from my mother's incessant hounding to invite Mr Obelyn back. I had tried to remove him from my thoughts, in favour of a certain blonde, but sometimes it was unavoidable. His arrogant face and words plagued my troubled dreams. Mama insisted that amends were to be made as soon as was possible, but fortunately we were virtually trapped inside by the constant downpour. This meant that even mail wouldn't get anywhere without arriving soggy and thoroughly ruined. Hence, I managed to avoid contact with Elias, much to my relief.

The days had rolled by slowly in light of Brittany's absence coupled with the weather, and I was anxious for the next ball. By the time Friday came around, I was so pent up with frustration and excitement that I feared I would explode.

I rolled out of bed in much the same fashion as I had for the past few days; aimlessly and exhaustedly dropping my feet to the wooden floor, I hauled myself over to the dresser and looked at my reflection. I had dark circles under my eyes because I couldn't sleep last night, and my hair was rather a mess. Nothing my mother wouldn't be able to fix.

Following my schedule, I took my bath and brushed my hair before going down to a pleasant family breakfast. The tension between us seemed to be easing even the tiniest bit, which could be nothing but good, so I tried to involve myself in the conversations.

"I hope you're all ready for the ball tonight," she said eagerly. "The Duke and his family are quite the entertainers, are they not?" She smiled down the length of the table and I ducked my head as thoughts of Brittany swirled within it. I didn't think I could ever bore of spending time with her.

"Indeed they are, my dear," my father agreed, "and I am looking forward to again seeing the pleasant bunch of young men I had the fortune of meeting last time. I may even manage to acquire for myself a little more business." He went back to his eggs as he finished speaking.

"Oh, how wonderful. And you boys might have a chance to meet with some young ladies. Peter, will that girl be there again?" She was now addressing my bothers, so I had time to leaf through the pages of my latest literary interest to find where I had left off.

"I wouldn't know, Mama. I haven't had the chance to see her since the last ball," he answered, sighing slightly. I tried to picture the woman he was talking about, but I couldn't remember her very well. She was agreeable enough, I knew that much.

"Santana," my mother piped up again, pulling me from my book, "I am torn between coupling you with the suitors this evening for a dance, or saving you for Mr Obelyn." The truth was, she did look rather pained and I was astounded that this issue could actually cause her so much trouble. It wasn't even her life.

"I don't think it would hurt to have her meet some other bachelors, Mama." It was the first time Morys had spoken for the entirety of breakfast, but it didn't matter; instantly, I was furious. His words came with a sly smirk in my direction and I would have leapt across the table and wrung his scrawny neck if it had not been for fact that I most likely would be disallowed to attend the ball. I was apprehensive yet eagerly anticipating tonight, a very different feeling to last time. He hadn't finished. "What say she turned down Mr Obelyn again, then what, Mama? Though I don't quite know if there is any point, seeing as she is so sorely lacking in feminine charm." I fumed at him from my seat across the table.

"Morys! How dare you talk about your sister like that!" My father yelled.

My mother decided to add her two bits worth, which ended up as more hindrance than help. "She has plenty of charm and I'm sure any young man would be happy to have her to call his own. Did you see the way Mr Bailey was looking at her last week? That surely could not have been for lack of charm..." she frowned at Morys and although I was grateful that my parents disagreed with him for once, I was considerably less pleased with the way I was being spoken about.

I tried to keep my voice level as I spoke up. "Would you all just be quiet, please?" My words were a little shaky as I placed my spoon on the table beside my half-finished plate.

"Santana, dear, I hardly think you know what's good for you-"

"And you do?" I was beyond angry, and there was no way I could hold back anymore. "You think that you can control my life? You never considered that maybe I don't want to marry an arrogant fool, or for that matter, even marry at all! You just got so caught up in your own goddamn perfect world that you didn't notice I have a heart of my own. Not that you would know anything about hearts," I spat. My mother looked stunned. Good. I pushed my chair back roughly and all but ran from the room. I couldn't even bring myself to cry.

I heard my father calling after me but I didn't look back. How dare they talk about me like a piece of meat, like a prize animal to be sold to the highest bidder. Damn them all. I wished a swift death upon my mother and Morys as I flew down the hallway. I stopped outside my room and reached for the handle before I head footsteps coming up the stairs behind me. I whirled around to see Papa not far away, with a tired expression; now more than ever, he looked like he really was getting older. His hair was greying from its once youthful black, and the lines on his face were more prominent. It saddened me to think that I might be the cause of his exhaustion. I was still frozen with my hand on the door when he reached me and opened his arms. I didn't hesitate in throwing myself into them. I felt hot tears finally streaming down my face, and I let myself sob out all my pain and worry. My breathing was ragged and my eyes and throat were sore, but I couldn't bring myself to stop. After a while, he lifted my chin off his shoulder and led me down the hall to his office, which also served as a library of sorts. He sat me down in the big leather chair across from his desk and went to sit himself on the other side.

It was a long while before he spoke. "Santana." I looked up slowly and wiped my eyes, to see him watching me carefully. I thought he expected me to say something when he didn't say anything more, but I stayed silent because I didn't think I could physically speak.

He sighed heavily before starting again. "Santana, my dear girl. Your mother doesn't hate you, you know." I still managed to roll my eyes through the tears.

"Yeah, but she doesn't love me, either," I mumbled so quietly that I wasn't sure he heard me.

"Of course she does," he said gently, "never doubt that. We both love you so much, Santana. She just has a hard time coming to terms with you growing up." He tried to smile a little, but this wasn't really a smiling topic.

I found my voice and spoke properly. "She never seemed to have a problem with Morys or Peter. They can go marry any woman they like, can tackle the world by themselves. But not me, no. I have to be married off to a rich man before I turn twenty or my looks will begin to decline. Which they won't, by the way." I scoffed, thinking about my mother's words over the past few years. Always telling me to dress to impress, to primp myself for the menfolk. It disgusted me, and I felt the familiar rage boiling up in me again. My dry sarcasm was not doing anything to relieve my father of his disappointment, and I was sorry to be causing so much hurt. But they had to know how I felt.

"Because she just wants what's best for you. She is worried about you, but she just has her own way of showing it. You two are more alike than you realise." He chuckled a little to himself. I didn't see how it was funny, but I stopped snivelling and looked up at him.

"Papa, I don't want to get married. I especially don't want to get married to Mr Obelyn." I saw pity cross his face, much to my surprise.

"I'll let you in on a little secret, baby girl. I can't stand the man either. But I don't let him know quite as blatantly as you do. I'll admit, there I times that I wish I could." He laughed again, and this time I managed to join him quietly. I had no idea that my father hated him too. It made me feel a little better, because he was definitely a man that didn't deserve the respect of Raulin Lopez.

"So... are you still going to force me to marry him?" I asked tentatively.

"I would like you to make amends with him, but that is as for as you must go. You forget that I never asked you to marry him in the first place. Your mother just wants to see you secure and settled down. Can you blame her?"

Well, yes I can. And I do.

"Thank you so much," I said, getting up and circling the desk to pull him into a hug. My father might not have been around all the time, but every minute he did spend with us meant the world to me. He chuckled and hugged me back, before holding me at arms length and smiling up at me.

"Now, why don't you go read for a while before you get ready for tonight? I'm sure you'll look stunning as usual. Remember what I told you; please try to act civil towards your mother. Perhaps you might ask her to help you with your hair." He spun his chair back to face his desk and turned his attention to a large pile of papers. I righted myself and smiled again before walking out and back to my room. I pulled the door closed behind me and exhaled loudly before calling to Scarlett to get a washbasin ready. Despite my bath earlier I felt like I needed to wash again, so I had a rinse with a cloth and put on my underwear. I tried to stay out of my corset for as long as possible; why breathing impediments were fashionable I would never know.

I lay down on my bed and grabbed a few well-loved volumes from a cupboard in my bedside table. I didn't care to look at the titles. I simply picked one up and got lost in a new world. This one happened to be a modern French work, _L'An 2440, rêve s'il en fut jamais_; it was something my father had picked up on a trading trip. Fortunately it was an English version, seeing as I had never paid much attention to my French tutor when I was younger. I had read it once, a long while ago. It was what people were beginning to call 'Science Fiction'. It was the only book I had ever read in the genre, and it seemed interesting enough. The ideas were so fantastical and far-fetched that sometimes I had to laugh. Religion replaced with science, ridiculous ill-fitting clothes replaced with practicality and comfort, the evil of the world eradicated. If only. Oh well, it was nice to dream.

The hours passed so quickly while I was engrossed in my book that I didn't realise when I only had a couple of hours left to get ready. I got up reluctantly and moved to get ready. Despite the events of this morning, I found myself getting a little excited again. I never enjoy social functions without a lot of alcohol. Why am I getting so damn anxious? I knew the answer well enough. I let go of my thoughts and sat down, pulling my hair around my shoulders.

Sitting at the dresser, I looked over the abundance of products sprawled over the surface and cringed. I didn't really know what half of them did, but I used them anyway. Mama seemed to think it would make me more beautiful somehow. Well, it couldn't hurt, could it? There was a soft knock on the door just as I was debating which jar or bottle to open first, and I really just wanted to tell whomever it was to leave. I opened my mouth to send them away, but I was stopped when there was another knock followed by a weak "Santana?" I closed my mouth again and grit my teeth. I braced myself for what would inevitably come of this but I called for the door to be opened, turning in my seat to face Mama.

"Santana, sweetie, I'm sorry," she said quietly as she looked at me pleadingly, moving towards me. It was disconcerting; Mama never apologised, let alone appeared truly repentant. I watched her warily as she approached, but tried to remember what my father had said. Act civil. She loves me. Let her do my hair.

"Mama," I said stiffly. I looked at her and saw nothing in her eyes but sincerity. Maybe Papa had been telling the truth to some extent. I tried to put myself in her shoes, to understand her actions, but failed miserably. I had never been good with empathy. "I'm sorry too." This would be the safest way to play it. And despite how good the outburst had felt, I didn't like hurting my family. When I was younger, she had given me nothing to complain about. She was my mother and whether I liked it or not, I more or less owed it to her to give her a chance.

"I know this must be hard, Santana. I truly am only trying to do what will be best for you one day. You might not see it now, but I just want you to be safe. You can't stay here forever…" she trailed off, as though the realisation was only just hitting her properly. I wanted to forgive her, I did. But I found it wasn't in my nature to let things go easily. I changed tactics to avoid more conversation like this and decided that maybe Papa's idea wasn't so bad after all.

"Do you think you could help me get ready?" I asked her softly, trying to stay as normal as possible. She looked slightly relieved and nodded, smiling happily at me.

"Of course," she answered. She seemed to have finished getting herself ready. She was always done hours before we needed to leave, because you 'can't rush beauty'. I rolled my eyes inwardly and thought that's exactly what I'll have to do.

"I almost forgot," she continued, "I have a surprise for you, Santana." She left the room in a hurry, and as I heard footsteps coming back she called out for me to close my eyes. What now? I closed them and told her I was ready. She came into the room, and I desperately wanted to see what could have warranted my vision being temporarily disallowed. I heard some fabric being ruffled and then permission to open my eyes was granted.

"So, what do you think?" Mama asked, as she stood expectantly before me, holding one of the most exquisite dresses I had ever seen in my entire life. I felt my mouth open slightly of its own accord and couldn't bring myself to close it. If I wasn't mistaken, she had bought this dress for me. Maybe she did think of me sometimes. I got up and moved towards her, taking the dress from her outstretched hands. It was the perfect length, just brushing the floor when I held it up to myself. The pale, creamy under-layer was covered with a sheer golden layer with intricate gold embroidery. The top layer split into two and led into a train at the back. It was breathtaking.

"Is this for me?" I asked incredulously. She nodded and smiled at my reaction. I shook my head and grinned. "It must have cost a fortune."

"Your father and I had it made in London and were going to give it to you as something for you to leave home with, if you ever did leave home that is." She rolled her eyes. We were a _little_ similar. I'll admit that. "The silk underneath is from the Far East." She said this proudly, but it only made the numbers in my head shoot higher.

"Thank you, so much, Mama." I gave her a small but heartfelt hug, which she returned tentatively. Another thing we had in common – contact wasn't really out thing. But right now, I needed it. I needed my mother.

"Now, why don't I help you put it on? Even if you insist you won't find a husband tonight, you may as well turn some heads, hm?" She gave me a quick squeeze before turning me around and helping me put on my corset. The whalebone stays were poking me in the ribs so I adjusted it until it was as comfortable as a constricting undergarment could be. When I was sufficiently unable to breathe, she lifted the dress over my head and pulled it onto me.

It looked even better on that it had before. It fell around me perfectly, and the pale and gold colour combination contrasted perfectly with my skin. I would _definitely_ be turning some heads tonight; not that I didn't usually, but at that moment I felt more beautiful than I ever had. I knew it was material, but it made glow. I couldn't have picked out a better dress myself. It was comfortable too, so I guess that imported silk paid off.

My mother looked like she had tears in her eyes. I dismissed the thought and turned back to the dressing table, where I sat gingerly on the stool to avoid messing up my dress.

My mother picked up the brush next to her and began to comb through my long hair. She was trying to be gentle, I could tell. My hair was freshly washed, shining in the sun that was sitting low on the horizon and streaming through my bay window in orange beams. She styled it elaborately; I couldn't be exactly sure what she did, but it looked good. I noticed that she hadn't done it perfectly – there were a few wispy strands at the back of my neck, just the way I liked it. I didn't say anything, but thanked her mentally. She really was trying.

"Would you like me to do your makeup?" She asked.

"You probably know what all of this does a lot better than I do," I laughed a little at the truth of it, but closed my eyes as she began to apply god knows what to my face. I sat in silence for only a couple of minutes before all the movement stopped. I was confused, and opened my eyes to give her a questioning glance.

"You're done." She said simply. _What?_ She normally took hours to get ready and put hundreds of fancy makeup things on. I turned to look at myself in the mirror, prompted a little my Mama. My breath caught in my throat when I saw myself.

I don't know what she had done, but I was so thankful she had done it. I had hardly any makeup on, but what I did have accentuated my features perfectly. I looked amazing.

"What happened to all that makeup you were going to put on me?" I asked her.

She just shook her head. "You don't need it Santana. I might, and other women might, but you don't. You look wonderful." I got up and hugged her without warning, but this time she had no problem hugging back.

"I'm sorry about before," I said softly as I pulled back, hoping to set everything to rest.

"I know, me too," she said. Now, why don't we go downstairs and wait for the others. We've only got fifteen minutes before we need to go." I followed her out the door, and we waited in the lounge for the boys to be ready. Sometimes I swear they took longer than us.

By the time we were ready to leave, the carriage was ready and the rain had let up. It was a pleasant surprise, but there were still puddles everywhere.

Now that I had nothing more pressing to occupy my thoughts, all I could think about was _her_. I would see Brittany tonight. I felt my stomach do little flips of anticipation, and couldn't even bring myself to berate my conscience for thinking these things. The short journey was over relatively quickly, and I almost leapt out onto the muddy ground. However, I stopped and let Peter help me out, fearing for the hem of my dress. I held it up a little, hoping that it wouldn't be ruined before Brittany even saw it.

I made it to the steps safely, and looked behind me to see the sun just setting as I approached the front door with the rest of my family. This time, Brittany was near the door greeting with her father. I stopped as soon as I saw her, all the breath leaving my body. She looked absolutely stunning in a midnight blue evening gown, with most of her hair pulled back off her face save for a few curled strands over her ears. My eyes subconsciously travelled over her body, taking her in. Every time I saw her it was like it was the first time I had ever done so. She never failed to leave me speechless. I composed myself, trying to stop staring at her so obviously. Her mouth was slightly open as she looked at me, and I couldn't help but think that maybe all of the getting ready had been worth it. Her eyes roamed my form in much the way mine had hers. A light blush dusted her cheeks, and I was sure by now that mine were much redder. When my eyes finally came to meet hers, she smiled and greeted me.

"Miss Lopez," she said politely. I wondered why she was being so formal again, but then I realised that the Duke was right beside her, greeting my parents. This was a formal occasion, after all.

I curtsied and kept a straight face as I returned her greetings. "Lady Pierce," I said, unable to keep the teasing edge out of my voice. She seemed to pick up on it and grinned at me before looking carefully sideways. Her father seemed to be engaged in some conversation with a new guest so she must have figured it would be alright to continue talking to me.

"Come with me," she whispered, lightly grabbing hold of my arm. I turned to tell Peter I was going to 'mingle', but he was already gone. Oh well. I let Brittany pull me through the currently tame crowd, and into the sitting room where we had tea the day I came to visit her. There wasn't really anyone else in the room, only a few groups talking quietly among themselves. There were some seats free by the fireplace, and she led me over to them, sitting down and motioning for me to sit beside her.

She turned to me straight away and smiled widely. "I missed you, San. I had so much fun the other day, I really did." She nudged my leg with her own gently.

"I missed you too, Britt." I found myself admitting it freely, something I really needed to get under control. It was like all my inhibitions just flew out the window when she was around. Well, not all of them. I would be in a lot of trouble right now if I didn't at least adhere to _some_ rules. "I wanted to talk to you, but the rain was kind of, heavy…"

"At least it has stopped for a while now," she commented. "But do we have to talk about the weather now? Lets just enjoy the evening." We sat and talked for what could have been minutes or hours, I had no idea. We each had a couple of glasses of wine, and I could feel the warmth spreading through my body. God, talking to her would never get old. She had some strange tales from her childhood which I loved hearing. It seemed that she had so much fun as a child, and each new story she told was more endearing than the last. The room had filled up a little, and was beginning to reach what I would consider crowded.

A server boy, who looked vaguely familiar, came up to Brittany and told her that her father wanted to speak to her in the dining room. She sighed but stood up and excused herself, promising to return as soon as she could. She gave my hand a squeeze and left the room, leaving my skin tingling and my cheeks flushed. I figured I should probably get up and find my family as well, seeing as I had left them so abruptly at the door. I found my mother chatting to some other women in the main hall, ignoring the dancing that was going on in the centre of the room. A large ring or people conversing and laughing had formed around the dance floor, where men and women were twirling to the lively music.

"Oh, Santana, there you are!" She was laughing and I could tell she'd been drinking a little. "Where did you disappear to? I haven't seen you since we arrived." She looked suspicious but in a half-hearted sort of way.

"I was talking to uh, a friend. I spent some time with Lady Pierce, actually." I decided it was better to be telling the truth. Why should I hide it? There was nothing wrong with talking to my friend. Her face brightened a little at the mention of Brittany; Mama seemed to like my newfound friendship with her. Anything for society.

"Oh, that's lovely dear. You haven't seen your brothers, have you?" I shook my head in answer and decided that maybe it'd be better if I just went to find someone else to talk to. I didn't want to interrupt whatever Brittany and her father were talking about, so I went to sit at a table in the corner. This ball was beginning to feel very much like the last one, now that I was alone again. I brushed off some men who took an interest and scowled inwardly at the women who looked at me enviously. Nothing to be jealous of here. I was about to call to a passing waiter for another drink when I heard a familiar voice nearby. I smiled and wondered what on Earth she was doing here.

"Quinn?" I asked, searching for the source of the voice.

"Santana! Fancy seeing you here!" A smiling face popped out from the crowd and came to stand in front of me. It had been a couple of weeks since I'd had the chance to see Quinn, and she looked as good as ever. Quinn had always been the dainty, perfect daughter. Her parents were as rich as, if not richer than mine, but she was one of the most humble people I knew. When she was younger, had been spoilt beyond belief, but now you would never know. She was the picture of innocence, but I knew better. She liked a bit of fun once in a while, as did anyone. She'd had her fair share of dances and drinks, but somehow she managed to keep herself in check. I admired her just a little, but I'd never tell her that. Didn't want anything going to her head.

"Santana, this is Rachel," she said, pointing to a very short brunette who was standing next to her. I had only just noticed her when Quinn pointed her out, probably because she was so damn small. She smiled brightly and nodded her head in my direction. "Rachel, Santana is my friend. Well, best friend really. I've known her for as long as I can remember."

Rachel spoke up for the first time. "Nice to meet you Santana. I've heard a little about you," she said enthusiastically. She seemed… energetic. She babbled about something for a minute and I pretended to listen. I was really sending helpless looks to Quinn who just chuckled and looked back at Rachel. How could Quinn stand her? Now I was considering the possibility that she was slightly unhinged; the look in her eye was almost dangerously excited.

In the meantime, Rachel had finished and I quietly breathed a sigh of relief. Quinn began talking again. "Rachel's an actress, would you believe it?" She said lightly. "We met in London, when I went to see a show she performed in. She was wonderful." Rachel made a forcedly modest comment and Quinn kept talking. "We became such good friends that I invited her to come and stay on the country with me for a while." Quinn smiled down at Rachel, and I looked between the two. Whatever. Quinn could have her creepy, excitable midget friends as long as I didn't have to listen to them blabbering for too long.

"That's great, Rachel," I said, trying to sound supportive of Quinn's friendship. Being a good friend could be so demanding sometimes. I chatted with them for a little while longer before excusing myself on the premise of getting a drink. I quietly returned to my seat in the corner and wondered where Brittany had gone. Maybe she'd had other guests to talk to; she was basically hosting this party, after all. Just as I was lamenting the loss of her company, a delicate, white-gloved hand appeared in front of me. I looked up to find Brittany looking down at me.

"May I have this dance?" She said softly.

The world came to a screeching halt and all I could to was stare at her. _Brittany just… asked me to dance. What in the world am I supposed to do? She's a woman… I can't dance with her. I can't. _My eyes found hers and everything was washed away for a moment. Nothing existed but us. The look on her face was so entrancing and innocent, I realised I could never deny her anything. Her hand was still in front of me as I was still sitting there without having responded. My mouth opened and closed a couple of times before I found my voice.

"Britt, I… I don't know…" I didn't really know how to tell her what I was feeling right now. I wanted _so_ badly to reach out and take her hand, to be close to her, but I was afraid. The only thing holding me back was fear.

"What?" She said, looking a little disheartened. I wanted to take it back, to say 'of course' and just go and enjoy myself. "Can't friends dance? You just looked a little lonely, is all. I want you to have fun," she said, pouting.

She just wanted to dance as friends; to have fun. I was reading too much into things. I needed to stop, because this was getting out of hand… my feelings were running away with my common sense, and leaving a bumbling mess behind. I swallowed my pride and reached for her hand, which was thankfully still extended towards me. I stood, gripping her tightly, and smiled.

"Yes, Brittany Pierce, you may have this dance," I said. She grinned excitedly and squeezed my hand, leading me to the dance floor on her arm. I hadn't noticed, but a song had ended and a new one was about to begin. We took our places, and I thanked Mama mentally for forcing me to take dance classes regularly. A few people looked at us quizzically, but no one really seemed to take much notice. For that I was more than thankful. But why was I so worried about people seeing us? We were just two friends, dancing.

The music began, and we curtsied to each other. She hadn't stopped smiling, and I decided I needed to stop my stupid worrying and just enjoy myself. She was right; tonight was about fun.

It was a dance I knew well. We swirled in time with the music, not taking our eyes off each other. It was the most amazing feeling, having her look at me like there was no one else in the room. I wanted her to look at me like that forever.

We moved among the other couples, who for the most part seemed oblivious to us. I was equally unmindful of them, all my attention focused on the woman dancing with me. She moved so gracefully, her body seemed to flow with the rhythm. She didn't miss a single step, or stand on my feet. She was absolutely perfect. We moved in closer, and circled one another before retreating to opposite sides of the floor, weaving among the others. Closing the distance once again, she took my hand and spun me, so that my back was facing her front. She was so close, and all I could so was gulp and keep dancing. The warm feeling I got whenever she was around intensified, a flush of heat running through my body. The butterflies were back, and worse than ever; this didn't feel like a dance between friends for me. For the first time, I think I truly realised what I wanted. I wanted _her._

Before I knew it, the music had stopped and the dance was over. I quickly bowed to my beautiful partner, thanked her and spun on my heel. I needed some space. As I looked up, however, I realised that there were a lot of pairs of eyes on me. In fact, most of the room was watching me, and not in a way I was used to. They seemed confused. For God's sake, I was confused! I felt a pressure building in my chest, constricting my lungs and making it hard to breathe. What did they think? What were their judging minds making of that dance? I was freaking out; I needed to get a grip.

Brittany caught my arm before I could go anywhere.

"San, are you okay? You look a little pale." People seemed to have gone back to their conversations and their drinks, dismissing whatever they had found so interesting. I allowed myself to feel a tiny bit relieved, but I couldn't shake the feeling I got when all those eyes were on me. I saw Quinn still watching me warily from across the room, however. She glanced down at Rachel and then back to me before dragging her friend out of the room. _What's up with her?_ I thought.

"Uh, yeah, I'm fine. I just… I think I need some water." I asked. I did feel a little strange, and perhaps all the evening's drinking didn't help. Brittany's brows pinched together in a frown, and I smiled to assure her I was okay. "I've had a bit to drink, is all," I said, watching the crinkles on her forehead grow even more pronounced.

"Oh." I couldn't tell what she was thinking, and it bothered me. I don't know why I suddenly wished or expected to posses the powers of telepathy, but I think some part of me desperately wanted to know what she was feeling at that moment. "Come with me and I'll find you some water."

We went to the kitchen, which was empty save for a few cooks. Brittany asked one of the kitchen hands to fetch me a glass of water, which she promptly did, pouring it out of the fresh water pot. I sipped it slowly, letting the cool liquid soothe my throat and wash away the taste of alcohol. This night was not going entirely as I planned. But then I remembered how it felt to dance with Brittany, to have her close to me, and I smiled softly to myself. I wished there hadn't been so many people; I wanted to share things like that with her only.

"Feeling better?" She asked, still looking a little concerned. I nodded. Her frown faded into a cute grin.

"Why is it that you always get sick at my parties?" She said, shaking her head. "I just don't know what to do with you." She laughed a little and she bumped my hip with her own, making a little water slosh out of my cup. She laughed even more and I finished my drink before giving her a playful tap on the arm. I felt relaxed again. No one else ever made me feel so comfortable, and I was more than grateful for her company, even if it was just friendly banter like this.

"Do you want to go back?" Brittany asked, a little more serious once again. I didn't really want to go back out there, to the rooms filled with people and chatter, but what choice did I have? I sort of owed it to her to let her go back to her party. I had caused enough trouble already.

"Uh, I suppose… we should—"

"—We don't have to go back right now if you don't want to." She jumped in before I could finish my sentence. "I'm sure no one will mind if we made a little detour… to the library?" She looked at me hopefully. Maybe she didn't want to go back either.

"Are you sure?" I wanted more than anything to escape.

"Positive. Well, sort of. Who will even notice? It's too busy in there anyways." She grabbed my hand and towed me to the library, sneaking us in spy-style. She was so ridiculous sometimes.

"You know that book that you were reading to me last time you were here?" She asked, moving towards the couches in the centre of the room. She grabbed the copy of _Clarissa_ and held it up.

"Yes, one of my favourites." I looked at her expectantly, waiting for the rest.

"Well, I started reading it myself. I really love it. It's kind of strange and dramatic, but it's good." She smiled proudly and my eyes widened.

"That's great, Britt, but I thought you didn't really like reading." I said this gently, showing that I was happy and not trying to be rude.

"That was until you inspired me. I admit though, I like listening to you more than I like reading the words myself." My heart fluttered and I allowed myself to really feel what I wanted to. If only she knew the effect she had on me…

"Did you want me to read a little more?" I offered hesitantly. "If we've got time, that is," I added.

"We've got time." She sat in front of the fire getting comfortable in the large armchair. I settled into the one beside it and opened to the page she had bookmarked; it just so happened to be Letter XXVI; she had been doing a lot of reading, seeing as it wasn't simple material. I was impressed. I read for a moment, my eyes following the words on the page.

"Where are you up to?" I watched her point a finger a third of the way down the page in response, and then I began reading. She rested back in the chair and watched the fire silently. I kept reading, pleased to see her so content. I forgot all about the party that was going on elsewhere in the house and simply drowned in her presence.

"_It is natural, I believe, for a person to be the more desirous of making new friends, in proportion as she loses the favour of old ones: Yet, had I rather appear amiable in the eyes of my own relations, and in your eyes, than in those of all the world besides…"_

I stopped reading and glanced over the top of the page to see her watching me, her chin resting on her hand. She blinked lazily, a small smile gracing her lips. We looked at one another for a while, and I tried to let the words on the page speak for me, to say all the things I wanted to.

After a while, I cleared my throat and stood up, replacing the book on the small table. "Well, I think people might be starting to wonder where we are," I said, trying to dispel the tension in the room.

"That was beautiful, Santana. Thank you." She seemed to want to say something more, and I stood facing the fire, no quite sure what to do.

She spoke again, quieter this time. "I'm sorry." I turned to look at her, but her eyes were on her feet.

"What for?" I frowned, wondering what she had to apologise for.

She sighed, closing her eyes briefly before opening them again tiredly. I was taken aback by the sudden look of exhaustion that had overtaken her features. I had never really seen her anything but excited or happy, or at least I had never seen her look so worn. "You know what, don't worry about it. I think you're right, we should go back. But San, thanks. I mean it. You're really special." She looked me in the eyes, conveying the sincerity of her words. She stood, offered her arm and said, "Shall we?"

I smiled and rested my arm on hers, and we returned slowly to the ballroom, neither of us particularly keen to re-enter the teeming crowd. But as soon as we did, she was whisked away by some people who were probably more important than myself, leaving me once again alone despite the fullness of the room. Peter suddenly appeared, seemingly from nowhere, and told me that Mama and Papa wanted me, and that we would be leaving soon. It took me a moment to realise that perhaps the evening had gone faster than I thought. The crowd was beginning to thin out, people leaving a little drunkenly and making their way outside. I wondered how long I had spent with Brittany.

I followed him through the labyrinth of people and tables until we reached a long one, with several people sitting around it, including Papa and Morys. Probably Mama too, but I had yet to spot her. I was about to ask where she was when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around to see my mother looking at me expectantly.

"Where have you been all evening?" She asked with a hint of suspicion. Her eyes even narrowed a little bit.

"I, uh, spent some time with Lady Pierce." I gulped, not quite sure why answering made me uncomfortable. However, I had no reason to lie, so I didn't.

"I heard." She said sternly, giving me a disapproving look.

"It was nothing but a bit of fun between friends; I don't see what all the fuss is about." I wasn't going to let myself get swallowed by my fears from earlier. That's all it _was_, no matter how much I might have wished otherwise.

Did I wish otherwise? I was terrified to think that maybe I did.

"Yes, well I don't like it. It's not the done thing. Couldn't you have found some handsome young bachelor to dance with?"

"Mama, please lets not get into this again. Can we just let it go? I'm more than ready to go home," I said, trying to sound tired. I even added a small yawn for good measure.

"We were going to leave soon anyway. Lets say our goodbyes and head off." She moved away, an irritated scowl still on her face. I watched the transformation as she plastered her social smile onto her face to talk to the seated group. Papa caught my eye, and gave me a confused look. I just shrugged and turned away.

I looked around, seeing a few pairs of eyes on me. But this felt like the normal sort of attention; this was the kind of attention I always got. One man came up to me and tried to start a conversation, but it was over quickly once her discovered my mood. I tried not to be _too_ mean, I really did.

I found Quinn talking quietly to her dwarf friend and said my goodbyes to them, saying 'how nice it was to meet Rachel'. I was only doing it for Quinn.

We gathered at the front door and were about to leave when the Duke came up to say goodbye, with the Duchess and Brittany in tow. Brittany wouldn't meet my eye. I tried to dispel the sinking feeling I got in my stomach, but I couldn't stand to see her looking like she did. She looked crushed, like she was barely holding together. I made sure my family was suitably engaged in conversation with the others and quickly moved to Brittany.

"Britt," I said, softly lifting her chin and forcing her to look at me. "She smiled and I let go, but she caught my hand before I could drop it back to my side. She held it between her own for a moment, letting the warmth encircle my cold fingers. "Is everything okay?" I wanted to make sure, public be damned. I cared about her, and no one was going to get in my way right now.

"I'm fine," she said unconvincingly. I caught a flash of something in her eyes, but it was gone before I could decipher her fleeting emotions. "San, thank you for tonight, I meant it. A friend like you means the world to me."

I couldn't stop the smile that spread across my face at her words, and the warmth that spread through me. "Anytime," I laughed gently.

"You look amazing tonight." Now she was smiling too, and I couldn't detect anything but the truth in her eyes. I hoped mine were being as expressive for her, but perhaps the blush I could feel spreading across my cheeks was doing the same job.

"Not as amazing as you," I said boldly, hiding my eyes beneath curled lashes. She didn't say anything; she simply pulled me into a hug, holding me tightly against her. I couldn't think of a better feeling in the world, but that was probably because I couldn't think much of anything when she was touching me. It was over too quickly, but not before she'd said in my ear, "Visit again soon. I'll miss you, San." It was quiet, but I heard it. She pulled back and there was a hint of that sad expression on her face again. Obviously everything was not okay, but I wasn't going to push it.

Luckily, my parents and brothers were just finishing up their farewells to the rest of the Duke's family and about to head out the door. I looked back at her one last time before. "Goodbye, Britt." I said it just loud enough for her to hear, but not her parents. I don't know if they would approve of the informality. I rather think they wouldn't.

She let go of my hand and watched me leave with a small smile on her face. I wondered when I would see her next. I tried to etch her image into my memory, to imprint her in my mind, despite the fact that no imagined image could ever do her justice. I felt the bumpy, muddy road beneath us as the carriage pulled away and I leaned back in my seat, sighing.

As I walked in the door at home, I took a look at the clock in the hallway. It was three o'clock in the morning. It wasn't the latest I'd ever been out, but I now understood why I was tired. The alcohol that was still no doubt in my system wasn't making it any easier. I rubbed my temples, trying to stop the headache that I felt coming on. I moved past the letter tray, expecting to see it empty, but there was a pile of mail on it. I guess the post had come whilst we were out probably to take advantage of the lack of rain.

I picked them up, leafing through them quickly. Most of them were for my father, a couple for my bothers. There was one from my aunt, my mother's sister who occasionally wrote to the family. She was a huge gossip, like Mama, but she seemed to know what was decent to share and what wasn't. That was a good quality to have.

I left the mail on Papa's desk when I went upstairs and then collapsed into bed after changing out of my dress. I was asleep almost before my head hit the pillow.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Hope that was satisfactory. That was the longest chapter yet. More Brittana fluff coming up and a small helping of angst, and then some kisses (if you're lucky…) so, with that I shall leave you._


	7. Crossing the Line

_**Author's Note: **__Here you go guys._

* * *

_Knock knock knock. _

I vaguely registered someone pounding on my door, but I was too far under to register who it was or why he or she was doing it. I stayed drifting between awake and asleep, willing the noise to go away.

_Knock knock knock knock knock._

Groaning, I rolled over slightly, putting my pillow over my head to drown out the sounds of needing to wake up.

"_Santana, Santana!" _Ugh. Now I knew there was no chance of avoiding whatever cruel punishment fate had decided to throw my way. I had no idea what I was even being punished for.

Pulling the pillow off myself and lifting my head to glare groggily at my door, I realised that whoever it was most likely wasn't going to leave until I responded.

"What?" Was all I could manage, and even that was croaky and quiet. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Who is it?"

Mama burst in the door, and Papa was in the hall behind her. Something must have been pretty urgent if they were getting me up at this hour; not that I had any idea what the time was.

"Oh, sweetie you're awake," Mama said, sounding relieved.

I managed to roll my eyes; I'm prepared for sarcasm at any time of day. "I am now," I said.

"Oh, none of that now. You need to get up. It's really quite important…" she didn't seem to want to say the rest of the sentence. Papa gave me a look from where he was standing and I sighed before getting out of bed. I immediately missed the warmth; today seemed to be extra cold. There was condensation on my window, some of which seemed to have turned to frost. The floor wasn't any better, as my toes were probably about to fall off once they touched the freezing surface.

"Okay, I'm up. Now where's the fire?" Mama handed me a letter. I looked at her warily and she encouraged me to open it. I gingerly slipped the folded paper out from the envelope. I saw it was addressed to the family.

"_Dear Mr and Mrs Lopez and family,_

_I write to inform you that I shall be passing through your area again soon. One week from now, I will be in your village and I would hope to meet with you. If it is not too much trouble, I wish to come by Marchess Manor and speak to you again; I would very much like to see Santana, if only to apologize and leave on good terms with you all. I should be there at noon on the Saturday one week and one day from the sending of this letter, if all goes according to plan. If you have other plans, however, I'm sure it would be no trouble to reschedule._

_Keep well until then._

_Sincerely,_

_Elias Obelyn."_

My hands were shaking as I read the last two words. Or, more specifically, _his_ name. He was coming here. I would have to see him again. Looks like Mama was getting what she wanted after all.

"Santana," my father said, "look at the date." I did. One week and one day ago. Today was Saturday. He was coming _today. _The rain must have stopped the post from arriving after all. I dropped to the bed again, sitting limply on the edge. Now I was certain I had committed some terrible offense against the universe and I didn't even know it; no one deserved this much misfortune in less than a month.

"But… I thought he was going back to Sussex," I tried lamely.

"Obviously not yet, dear." Papa's jaw was set, his mouth a thin line. I'm sure my expression was similar. "He was staying with a friend, after all."

Mama felt it a good time to pipe up. "And isn't it nice of him to want to set things right? I knew he was a good man, I just knew it. And you weren't going to do anything about it anyway. You're very stubborn." She frowned at me in a way that I thought was supposed to be a reprimand. It wasn't working.

"Does this mean I'll have to get up?" I asked uselessly.

My mother nodded vigorously and began shuffling around the room. "I've had your bath prepared already. Go wash and then come back here. It's of the utmost importance that you are presentable and _try_ to make a good second impression, seeing as your first may not have been _ideal_. Or even mildly alright, really," she said. I scowled at her and got up to go have my bath. One of the best things about being rich was the indulgence in personal hygiene that we were afforded. If there was one thing I knew, it was that some people didn't smell so great, and I definitely didn't want to let myself be one of them.

As usual, the warm water was soothing and the soap smelled nice. I washed myself thoroughly, removing any traces of the mud from yesterday's ride, and staying in the water until it turned cold. My fingers were all wrinkled from sitting in the water for so long, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was thinking about last night – or more specifically, a certain someone whose company I'd had the pleasure of last night. I sighed and lamented the fact that all my reservations seemingly flew out the window when she was around. Then again, it made me feel freer than ever, and I think I was becoming addicted to her. I wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. I shrugged and removed myself from the water, a painfully beautiful image of her printed in my mind.

Shaking these thoughts off, I dried myself slowly in an attempt to prolong the time it would take me to be ready to see Mr Arrogantface McHorribleson. I put on a dress that Mama deemed appropriate and made my way downstairs. Breakfast was full of chatter, but not from me; I wanted to be alone to wallow in my unhappiness. This was indeed a rather unfortunate development.

By noon, the skies were threatening again and Mr Obelyn was due at any moment. I was pacing in the drawing room, undeniably nervous and frustrated at having to deal with this fool again. The bell rang right as the clock was striking a half past twelve in the afternoon. _Shit._

I heard one of the staff open the door, and heard the voice I had despised since the moment I heard it.

"Hello?" I heard. "Yes, I am…thank you, shall I wait…?" I didn't really get what was going on, but wherever he was I wanted him to stay there and not come in here. "Certainly…no…I should hope so," he said. I was only getting parts of the conversation, but soon I saw my mother fly past, towards the foyer with my father in tow. He threw me a look as he went by the drawing room, and I couldn't do anything but grimace back and sit tight. Mama popped her head around and motioned for me to sit patiently. Fat chance.

It wasn't long before the party of now three rounded the doorway and came into the room.

Mr Obelyn was the first to speak. "Weather looks as if it might turn on us again. Oh, Miss Lopez, there you are," he said as he spotted me on the lounge. "A pleasure to see you again," he said tightly, and I smiled back in the same fashion.

"Of course." I was formal, but not unwelcoming. Mama seemed placated but not quite satisfied. Papa butted in before anyone could say anything more, which I was grateful for.

"Well, lunch is on the table, so what say we eat? I'm sure you have worked up quite an appetite on that horse of yours, Elias." Papa said diplomatically. He seemed to sense my discomfort and ushered us all towards the dining room.

Lunch was strained, to say the least. I spoke when I was spoken to and made no obvious efforts to include myself in the conversation. I spent most of the meal seething quietly whilst trying to maintain an indifferent expression, which was more difficult than it sounded. I didn't really pay much attention when the conversation shifted to the weather outside… and how it had taken a downturn and the rain had begun to pour from the dark clouds. I also apparently didn't pay much attention when my mother suggested that Mr Obelyn stay here for a while, at least until the rain stopped. However, I did find out when he didn't leave soon enough.

It was by now, much later in the afternoon and he was still sitting speaking with my family. Morys had enough in common with Elias that they could talk for hours. At times they tried to involve me in their conversations, but I said as few words as I could then returned to my book.

"So, Santana, I see you like to read. My friend, Mr Hudson, has an extensive library at his home. Do you know him?"

I knew exactly whom he was talking about, unfortunately. Finn Hudson was a blithering idiot in an big house on the other side of the village, and he was possibly the man most unworthy of manhood of all the men I had ever had the displeasure of meeting. Quite a mouthful of a title I had given him, but it was the truest of the nicknames I so loved to give everyone I met. Also, I am fairly certain that I observed breasts on him. Honest to God.

"I do know Finn. Is that who you are staying with?" I didn't really want to talk, but I was reeled into this conversation and I was more or less interested to know where Elias was staying for the express purpose of avoiding him. Though right now, that place seemed to be here. I hated to think of the possible lengths of time that he could be forced to stay here. Sighing both internally and externally, I put down my book and turned my head towards the two men.

He cleared his throat and answered my question. "Yes, ah, I'm staying with him while I'm in town, seeing as we're old friends. Grew up together, seeing as our parents were close. He's a good man, Finn," she said, nodding off into the distance thoughtfully. I rolled my eyes not-so-subtly. First-class jerk _and_ good friend of Finn Hudson… Could the universe have picked a _better_ man to try to pair me with?

"That's nice," was my reply, and his jaw set at my apparent lack of interest. "No really, that's nice." My lips pulled into a tight smile, and he knew I was being facetious. I was back to my book before he could say anything else. Score one for Santana.

The time passed quickly, and before I knew it, dinner was upon us. I excused myself upstairs to freshen up a little, but just ended up punching a bedpost and attracting the unwanted attention of Harrietta. "Sorry," was my muttered response before she gave me a disapproving look and left.

"Santana," came the call from my doorway.

"Papa," I breathed, moving over to engulf him in a hug. "I hate him so much," I whined.

"I know, dear, but he has to stay. You won't have to put up with him forever. Unless of course, you have a change of heart and marry him," he chuckled. I swatted him lightly on the arm and pulled back.

"Shh, don't let Mama hear you…she'll think you're serious." A reminder of the past and possibly future disaster, and yes disaster was a good way to describe it, sent my spirits back to the low they had been riding all day. "I just…it's not fair. None of it's fair, Papa."

"Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair, sweetheart. Now come downstairs for dinner. Surely some nice roast will do you good." I followed him downstairs and seated myself at the table. Conversation was a little harder to get going this time, but once a little bit of alcohol was added to the mix there was no stopping them. They were laughing and joking like old friends while I could barely stand to join in for a few words. Nothing interesting happened for a long time.

Soon enough, of course, the conversation turned to women. My mother was laughing at Peter's story about some girl he had met in town, and Morys and Elias were sharing tales of ladies they had been with, in one way or another. No one seemed to care that the conversation had taken such a turn, in fact they all seemed to be enjoying it. But all I could find myself wanting to do was share how beautiful _I_ thought women were, to gossip about who was attractive and who wasn't. I wanted to tell them about _her_. I stood up quickly, making every pair of eyes turn curiously to my standing figure.

"Uh, I don't feel too well. I have a headache. I think I will retire for the night, good evening," I said hurriedly as I ran up the stairs and into my room. I shut the door and curled up on my bed, calming my racing heart. It was getting stronger…how I felt about her intensified with every time I thought about her. She just wouldn't get out of my head, of my dreams, and I was so damn scared. This couldn't be me. I couldn't be one of those men and women who the town talked about behind their backs, who was the topic of gossip and was pushed to the outskirts of society. I couldn't be _gay_. I sat up quickly. It was the first time I had said it in my head. It had been lingering, haunting for days, maybe weeks. I refused to think it could have been years. But looking back, so many things fell into place. I brought my hands up and buried my face in them. This couldn't be an option. _She couldn't be an option._

Feeling like screaming, I found that I really did have a headache and lay myself back down among the mountains of cushions. There, nestled among the down, I fell asleep with tears in my eyes, but never letting them flow. I didn't even dream that night.

Awakening the next morning, my eyes were hard to open and my cheeks had dried tear tracks on them. I guess my sleeping self betrayed my waking one and decided that it was worth crying after all. I couldn't blame subconscious me…I felt like I mess. This was never supposed to happen. I just wanted to be normal. It wasn't even me that I wanted to be normal for. I wanted to be normal because everyone else cared. If I had my way, I would fall in love, be in love and live in love with whomever I chose. Unfortunately not everyone share my _liberal_ view of the world.

No, the part of me that was scared was the part of me that, however unfortunately, belonged to the real world. The world where there was only one normal – and apparently I wasn't it.

Rolling over in bed, I blinked lazily, the dry scratchiness of my eyelids painful, but in that good, waking-up way.

Downstairs, I was reminded of our unwelcome guest, and tried not to be too unpleasant. I had to get things back to the way they were supposed to be. I had to be as nice as I usually was, which granted was not very nice, and I had to fit in. I could never, ever let anyone know what I was thinking. I would take my secrets to the grave. I almost wished that grave would swallow me sooner rather than later. Shaking off my thoughts, I spun some story about my sickness and brushed off any comments or questions directed at me all morning. I floated about the house, not really talking to anyone or doing anything. I just drifted from room to room, trying to look busy. It worked, seeing as no one bothered me until after lunch.

The afternoon had turned out to be much nicer that yesterday; even some birds came out to chirp. It was so much sweeter than the previous days that I was almost tempted to take a turn outside and _smile _about it. Almost.

Mr Obelyn was planning to leave by four o'clock, and I couldn't have been more relieved. It seemed, however, that I had not completely escaped him yet. When the grandfather clock chimed three, he appeared in front of me with my mother not far behind him. No father or brother to save me now.

"Santana. I wish to speak with you one more time before I leave," he said carefully. He appeared more guarded than before. Good. That ass should fear my wrath. He should be terrified, because I will rip his heart out again and again before I agree to any kind of truce he wants to propose.

"Alright then, what is it?" I asked casually.

He looked around a little before turning back to me, as if he had a secret. "I sort of wanted to speak to you, _alone_, if you don't mind," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"And if I do mind?" I replied snarkily.

"Santana," Came my mother's warning from behind Mr Obelyn. Scowling, I nodded and waited for him to take me someplace _private._ What did he want to say that he couldn't say in front of my mother? God if this was—

"So, Miss Lopez, what do you say we head out into the garden and enjoy our talk among the last rays of today's lovely sunshine, hm?" I followed him reluctantly, however I was glad to have the distraction of nature for our 'talk'.

Once we were safely strolling down a path edged by daisies, he opened his mouth to speak.

"I want you to reconsider my offer." Well, at least he was being straight about it.

"No." My answer was the same as last time. I don't know why he still expected anything different. I was the most stubborn person I knew. Part from Morys, maybe. Runs in the family.

"Can I ask why?" He sounded like he _kind of_ expected it, but was still disappointed. "A handsome man like myself and a beautiful young woman like me…we go perfectly together."

My anger was beginning to boil. "You see," I said stiffly, "that's exactly where you're wrong. I am not simply some object for you to snatch up because you think I'm young and attractive. There is so much more to me than that. And even if you had taken the time to get to know me before attempting to whisk me away into you carriage of ego and bad manners, my answer would still be no. Because I _don't like you. _It's as simple as that, Mr Obelyn." I prayed to that God I had offended him.

He took in a deep breath through his nose and pursed his lips, eyes narrowing beneath furrowed brows.

"You have some nerve, Miss Lopez, speaking to me like that."

"Oh really? And why should I not be able to voice my honest opinion? Is it because I am a woman?" I saw his eye twitch. "Is it because I am _lower_ than you, and I should be honoured to have such an offer from a man like you? Well I'm not, so stop trying, please. It'd be easier for all of us." I spun on my heel and started walking fast in the opposite direction. I could sense him following, and quickened my step. I continued down the driveway, which I seemed to have been doing a lot of lately, and out onto the road. I didn't care where my feet were carrying me as long as it was far away from the man behind me. He was still following me as I turned the corner at the end of my drive and kept up my escape route. I was now _almost_ jogging, but he _was_ jogging. Soon enough he caught up and fell into step beside me. I kept my head up and tried not to acknowledge him. I was done with this conversation, be he obviously wasn't.

"Santana," he said, annoyed, "just stop being so ridiculous and listen to me. If you're too proud to marry me because I'm me, then at least do it for the money. I can offer you a lifetime of security." There it was, the old money argument. I had money. I didn't need to worry. And if worst came to worst, I was pretty good at persuading people to help me out. But it wouldn't come to that because I wouldn't let it.

"I told you already to just stop trying. I have made up my mind and there is no way you can change it." He sounded like he was getting more and more irritated, which I took some sort of sadistic pleasure from. Oh, the sweet pain of Mr Obelyn's self-importance.

By now, se had come quite a way down the road, probably almost a mile. Most of it had been spent in ignorant silence on my part and fuming silence on his part. I veered off into a field of tall grass, hoping he would just give up and stop following me. Oh, how wrong I was.

Suddenly I was jerked back by a hand on my arm, the grip strong and bruising. I let out an undignified yelp at the sudden pain and shook him off. "What do you think you're doing?! Get you hands of me!" I yelled.

"Stop resisting me! Everyone has approved this union, Santana. You're a fool to not accept my offer!" His eyes were the angriest I had ever seen.

"Well then I fool I shall be, Mr Obelyn. I _will not_ marry you." I turned away from him again, hoping I could make it to the road and back to the house before he could catch me. He grabbed both of my arms this time and held me in front of him. I couldn't help the shaking in my knees…no one had ever handled me like this before. I was terrified.

Was this man's ego so great that he had to defend it with violence? My mother sure could pick them.

"Miss Lopez, please." He took a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. I shut mine so I wouldn't have to face the insanity in his. "Look at me! Open your eyes and look at me, you whore!"

Tears stung behind my closed lids, but I refused to open them. He had just crossed a line. Not that there was any chance in hell of me accepting him before, but now I was ready to kill him, right there in the field. He let me go and I could hear him begin to pace in front of me.

My voice was slightly shaky when I spoke again. "And you wonder why you don't have a wife." Dear God, I am an idiot. The greatest damn idiot on the face of the earth.

"What did you say?" The sounds told me he had stopped and was looking at me again. I still kept my eyes closed.

"I said, 'and you wonder why you don't have a wife'," I repeated with more conviction. Mistake number two.

Before another thought could even pass through my mind, a searing pain sliced through my cheek. I screamed out, willing the heat in my skin away. The bastard had slapped me. It was the hardest I had ever been hit, and it hurt so much. A tear slipped down my swollen cheek and I still refused to open my eyes. I couldn't bear to look at the demon in front of me.

"You stupid bitch! Now look what you've done!" He roared, and I sniffed quietly to myself. Never before, in my whole 18 years, had I feared for my life…until now. I was genuinely terrified.

Another hit landed on the other side of my face, renewing the throbbing in my head and the pain that had been slowing down to an ebbing ache. More tears sprung into my eyes. I think I had cried more in these past few weeks than every other time combined. I felt the hate surging up, and at this point I was most certain that I had a heart. Every vessel in my body was being pumped with heat and a pain of a kind I had never felt before. My heart was feeling hatred.

But it wasn't over yet. I felt a rough hand curl around my throat. I had been right to be scared. I put my hands around his arm, trying to stop him. He was having none of it. I couldn't even speak. We stayed like that for a few moments more before he dropped me and I fell to the ground. I clutched my neck gently, not pressing too hard in fear that the pain would some back stronger. I couldn't see or hear anything, my head was spinning and my cheeks were burning. The last thing I remember was Elias Obelyn standing above me before he turned and left me crumpled in the grass by the side of the road. Then everything went black.

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_**Author's Note: **__ I know this chapter was Santana/Obelyn-centric, but I do have an __**entire**__ chapter of serious Brittana coming up. Stay with me… I did want to end it there for a reason, because the next chapter will be quite long. Thanks for all your support and your reviews guys, they really keep me going!_


	8. Knight in a Beautiful Dress

_**Author's Note: **__Chapter 8, as promised. I am overwhelmed by the amazingness of my readers, so thanks my lovelies! Onward. Oh, also, I have cried for days because of Glee. Why, RIB? But, I have faith that they will find their way back. Our babies are so endgame._

_[Edit] Thanks to my new Beta, Ryan47, who even went over this chapter for me and fixed all my dumbass typos! You're the best :)_

* * *

Grass swayed around me, the gentle wind rustling the thin stalks and I considered never leaving this place. It was quiet, if not cold, and the ground seemed to move softly beneath me as I lay there. I wasn't exactly comfortable, but who cared about comfort as long as one could simply never have to care about _anything_ ever again? I certainly wasn't complaining. I had the feeling of floating, and wasn't quite sure where exactly this place I didn't want to leave was or what time it was. Hours could have passed, even days. I had let myself cry what seemed to be my whole self into the waiting dirt beneath me. It accepted them almost gratefully, greedily drinking the moisture into its already-soaked depths. I could feel the mud moulding around me, and there was a vague nagging in the back of my mind that my dress would be dirty. It was a nice dress, I think.

Feeling had fortunately and slowly left my limbs, until I could no longer feel the stinging in my cheeks or the whip of the wind. I couldn't feel my toes in their little shoes, the thin covering offering little protection from the elements. I was sure that it had even started to rain again at some point. The sun had moved across the cloud-riddled sky until it reached a point not far above the horizon line. Curled up as I was, I had aimlessly watched it move, being the only indication that time had been passing. After sinking to the ground, hurt in more ways than one, I had chosen to lie there and simply consider the universe. I think I gave up on that once my mind shut down. I seemed to have retreated so far into myself that I became stuck, like a tortoise in its shell. In a state somewhat close to sleep, or perhaps delirium, I waited. I don't even know what I was waiting for. I just waited.

After what seemed like a small eternity, I heard ill-defined shouts that barely reached my ears. They wisped around me, taunting, like they were trying to pull me back from wherever I was to wherever it was they were. I didn't listen. I must have looked a crumpled mess with my hair splayed around my face which I was certain must have been bruised. One of my eyes simply refused to open.

"It's…young lady," broken words spoken in a gruff voice came from somewhere around me. "I don't…she's….can carry…check?" I was quite obviously only getting parts of the speech and I found myself almost wanting to tell them to go away. I hoped the Earth would just swallow me whole, take me down into its dark, wet depths where I could stay enveloped in the safety of Mother Nature's hold. A few moments later, I thought my wish must have been granted as I felt a strong, warm body wrap around my own. I might have smiled a little at the comfort that the embrace afforded me, but found myself quickly flinching back at the touch. I felt like I was underwater, and I was quickly rising to the surface. I didn't know if I could quite reach it though, the surface and the air seeming ever out of my reach. My body was regaining a little of the feeling it had lost, but I stayed trapped inside my own mind which couldn't choose between racing with thoughts and instincts and simply laying back and forgetting the world.

"Santana? San, can you hear me?" A soft but frantic voice penetrated the bubble of semi-consciousness that had been surrounding me, jerking me back into reality. Suddenly, I found my hand flying to my cheek and my eyes squeezing shut. I pushed myself from the arms around me, scrambling backwards uselessly until my own collapsed under me, tingling like someone was jabbing a million tiny needles into my muscles. It was even more uncomfortable than before until I felt the body around my own again, and didn't have the strength to fight it. There was something familiar about the lean arms, the smooth, pale skin and the sweet scent that surrounded me: something that made my heart kick into motion and a different kind of haze fill my head.

"San, it's alright, please," the voice begged, more desperate than before. I felt a hand come up to cover my own on my cheek, stroking lightly. "It's just me," she said. I didn't even need to open my eyes to know that it was _her_. I had no idea what she was even doing by the road with me, but it registered somewhere in the back of my mind that my 'escape route', which had so obviously been a success, had led me down the way to Chatsworth. Sooner or later someone had been bound to cross me, an inevitability I wasn't sure whether to be grateful for or not. I tried to nod, but my head wouldn't do it. She seemed to understand, though, that I wasn't going to fight her. I would never fight her. My body was limp and tired, and being pulled back momentarily from my lack of reality had also brought back the feeling in all parts of my body. Every fibre of my being ached with cold and exhaustion, not to mention the very real pain in my skull and the shallowness of my breathing.

I felt a certain shame in her finding me like this. I should have been able to hold myself up, to stand my ground and walk home. I should have never let him hit me. I felt the anger swell to a new level as I remembered everything. In the blur that things were, I could feel the boiling red trying to break through. Despite that, I was more than glad that it was her who had found me, not another stranger with rough hands and little of the warmth I so cherished in every part of her. I wished, too, to open my eyes and see her own blue ones looking at me, to see the unsullied care in them and let it wash everything else into meaninglessness. But they wouldn't obey me; I couldn't bring myself to show my hurt. For a while, I could let myself forget the wretched turn the day had taken and simply find comfort in Brittany's form. I felt the guilt, too…I felt the guilt of enjoying her touch me, the guilt of knowing my heart but being unable to stop it from beating faster. Faster even than earlier as I waited tensely for the blows of a sharp hand across my face. Harder than the times in my childhood when Peter would jump out of the shadows in the night and scare me; it simply beat for her. And I couldn't help the guilt.

In an instant, the ground was gone from beneath me and the other, deeper voice picked up again, further away this time. I began sinking back down again, having had enough of a gasp of air to carry me down into the quiet, watery depths for another while. I wondered briefly at just how strong she must have been to lift my entire weight; I must have been heavy. I marveled internally as I was placed gently down, this time in much more comfort than before. It was a small space, but it was dark and warm and rocked soothingly. I let myself drift off into real sleep this time, a soft, pale hand stroking through my hair and pressing lightly to the tender skin of my cheek. I almost felt _happy_.

So many hands.

So many hands and voices surrounding me, touching me here and there and everywhere. So many words, rushed together. My head was trying to let them through, to unscramble the horrible mess and tangle that the sentences were to me. Time had slowed, and however many hours it had taken to get to where I was had felt like another one atop the many that seemed to have filled the day. It was no longer just a day to me, but a lifetime. I suppose that when one is left alone in one's head, there is so much less and more to occupy one at the same time. It's disconcerting really, how time is but an illusion that changes and warps depending on how we look at it or where we view it from. I had always wondered how something so apparently linear could be so changeable and dependent. My day had been so much longer than anyone else's yet exactly the same length. I needed to stop thinking and find my way back to that elusive surface that I had tried so many times to reach.

"Santana! Wake up!" Mama. It was Mama's voice that snapped me back finally, her probing fingers on the side of my face and her frantic mumbling to herself. One eye flew open, the other still refusing to do so. I felt the pain as I tried to force it open, only getting so far as to be half squinting up into the dim light. I hated the fussing hands and the searching, questioning eyes. I tried to sit up, but a pain in my head pushed me back down with a grunt and a hiss. "Oh, finally…I thought you were never going to wake up!" She sighed heavily, her almost sarcastic comment rolling off me easily and falling into the growing puddle of half-hearted maternity that had seemed to pool at my feet since infancy. Groaning again, I reopened my eyes to see a flicker of blonde in my peripheral vision. _Brittany._

I guessed that I had whispered it aloud because no sooner than I had thought it she was at my side, watching me in concern. I think my father was there too, by my mother's side. All I could focus on, though, was the waver in the brilliant blue of Brittany's eyes as she looked down at me. I seemed to be laying on one of the lounges in the drawing room, which put me at a lower level than any of them. Brittany was kneeling beside me in silence, and I appreciated it more than she knew.

I opened my mouth to speak, the dryness uncomfortable as I swallowed hard before I began. "I'm so sorry," was all I said, not really sure who I was apologising to. A genuine apology was hard to get from me, because apologising often meant admitting defeat. Right now, I was sorry for everything that had happened. I was sorry for my weakness, and sorry for requiring the strength of others. Brittany's head cocked to the side, as if to say, _what are you sorry for? _I simply shook mine in return, a tight-lipped smile pulling near unnaturally across my face.

"My dear girl," came my mother's voice from above me, "do not start apologising for you have nothing to be sorry for. It is me who should be saying sorry for ever sending you with that…that devil of a man! Oh, I shall have him hunted, hunted I tell you!" She sure sounded angry, and it felt odd to have her coming to my defence for once, but odd in a nice way. The way she should have been always. Oh well, take what you can get.

A 'what did I tell you' was on the tip of my tongue, but I didn't let it out. For once, it was not the time. I myself never expected it to come to blows. From then on I knew never to assume the best of people, and to always expect the worst. That way, I can be pleasantly surprised when they surpass my expectations and not disappointed when they are nothing more than I had hoped for. I found that it worked quite well to stop the plague of disappointment that would otherwise follow me wherever I found mankind. They had a tendency to be Goddamn dreadful. My mother wasn't finished her rant.

"If it wasn't for luck and Lady Pierce's kindness, you would probably still be on the side of the road now. Oh how I hate to think of you lying there alone," she said dramatically. She liked drama a little too much at times. I watched Brittany's face harden, something I had not seen before. It looked wrong on her features, and I wanted to wipe the sad expression from her face. "We are most grateful to her! Saving a life is no small matter, Lady Pierce," Mama said, but Brittany just blushed and looked down modestly. She did smile though, and I was relieved to see the life re-enter her beautiful features.

I tried again to sit up, this time with more success as the throbbing in my head dulled and Brittany's guiding hand helped me. I felt like such a fool and wished that I didn't have to look or feel like this.

"Are you alright, Santana?" She asked softly, for me only, below the noise of my mother's babbling. My father's eyes were trained on me, his eyes cold and warm at the same time and his thick brow set in a constant downturn. My stupidity, my temper and I had gone and ruined everyone's day, not to mention my own. To be honest, it wasn't the best I'd had. I didn't really know how to answer her, so I settled for silence and glancing quickly into her eyes before turning my head back to the story of my rescue that was now being told.

"And then, how lucky can one get, Lady Pierce comes down the way in her coach on her way into town-" I looked guiltily at Brittany but she smiled and shook her head. "-and her driver spots a form in the grass. Thank God it was still light, because otherwise you would have gone missed in the darkness! Might I say that I never knew a Lady so strong as to carry another to safety," Mama finished somewhat breathlessly.

"It was nothing, Mrs Lopez. Know that I shall ask nothing of you in return. I am simply happy she is safe." The statement was matter of fact, but I could feel the concern of a friend behind it. I smiled, this time genuinely, at her and then turned back to Mama. There was a moment of silence before anything more was said.

"I…I think I shall go upstairs to my room," I said softly, all my energy suddenly disappearing. I felt the strain creeping up on me again, and the need to put everything behind me. I needed to get away from this and hopefully sleep would be the way to do it.

"Stay down here a little longer, and let me put some cold cloths on your cheeks. They are quite swollen. And you still need to tell us what happened," Mama coaxed, obviously only caring about the second part of her offer. I lifted a hand to touch my face where I could feel the ache, but Brittany's fingers snaked around my wrist to stop me.

"It'll only hurt, Miss Lopez," was her explanation. My parents' watching eyes forced her into formality, and I already missed my name on her lips. I wished for us to be alone so I could talk to her properly. I wanted to thank her more than Mama had, more than my eyes had; she had to know how much everything about her meant to me. Well, perhaps not exactly. No one could ever know that. In thinking that I felt a pang of sadness travel through me. She, more than anyone, deserved to know she was cared for. I wanted her to know, but I couldn't tell her. I was stuck in a limbo of false, paradoxical wisdom and I was quickly spiralling out of control. If Brittany were a man, it would be the easiest thing in the world. But it would not be better, not by any chance.

"Can't the story wait, Mama? To be honest, I'm more than a little dizzy and I probably couldn't tell it right anyway."

"Come Santana, just tell us what happened—" she tried.

"No!" I cut her off before she could say any more. "I don't—I don't want to talk about…" I could feel myself sinking back under again, the burning behind my eyes threatening tears, and the hatred swelling. I shook my head, unable to stop the quickening of my breathing as all the sensations were new in my head again. I just wanted to sleep.

I felt Brittany's fingers slip between my own, a grounding presence in the sea of fools surrounding me. My mother had since shut up, watching me warily and regretfully. I hoped she felt as bad as I did right now. Well, maybe that would be hard since I could feel every pump of blood that went through me, and I couldn't speak without my bruises aching.

"Santana, dear, do you want me to stay with you tonight?" Mama asked, trying to fix whatever problem she had caused with her selfish inquisitiveness. "I can stay in your room with you," she sounded almost uncertain of how to show motherly love. At least she was trying.

Suddenly, Brittany stood beside me, dropping my hand and facing my parents. "I'll stay with her," she offered, "I mean, if it's no inconvenience. I think you're right that she needs someone with her tonight." She was slightly flustered, but looked determined. My head spun for an entirely different reason then, and I could do nothing but hope that she really would stay.

Mama was quick to jump in. "Well, it's no inconvenience to us, in fact I think it would be wonderful for Santana to have a friend by her side, but won't your own family be worrying?" Damn her and her logic.

Brittany seemed to have it all figured out though. "I can send the coach back and they can deliver the message that I'm here, and of what happened; I'm sure it will be no trouble," I sighed inwardly, ready to slink upstairs and rest in Brittany's company.

"I suppose it's sorted then. Santana, as long as this is okay with you…" she trailed off, needing no more than my tired but decided nod. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to come down and ask."

Brittany left the room, saying she would be back in a moment. I stood shakily, passing my father's concerned face. He hadn't spoken, but I knew well enough that he was angry and upset. He wasn't an aggressive man – he liked to stay, watching wisely from the sideline until he deemed it appropriate to make a move – but this time I didn't think he would let it go. I hoped he wouldn't.

I made my way out of the room, my legs cold and unwilling to move properly. I was beginning to think that lying there in the mud as the sun had set hadn't been such a good idea after all. I was probably going to get sick. Before I had even reached the stairs, Brittany was back and her arm was around my waist, steadying me.

"I'm fine, really Britt," I said with as much strength as I could muster. I thought I had sounded pretty convincing, but she wasn't hearing it. She only tightened her grip and led me upstairs. She stopped at the top, and I looked at her in confusion for a moment before realising she had no idea where she was going. I smiled and headed down the hallway to my room. She looked at the paintings on the walls like she had last time, seemingly drinking everything in. I had noticed that she seemed to love the world around her. She looked at things, noticed things. She engaged with what she saw, even if she saw it in a different way than I did, or even in a different way than _anyone_ else did. It was refreshing.

She followed me into my room, one hand still resting on my back. I felt silly and juvenile for needing such care, and wished that this were under different circumstances. Under which though, I dared not guess.

Brittany sent me towards the bed, ushering me towards the comfort of the pillows where I sat awkwardly.

"You didn't have to do this, you know. I'm probably more trouble than it's worth…" I wanted her there, so much; I did. But I didn't want her to feel like she _had_ to stay.

"I wanted to," she replied. She had lowered herself in front of me, and placed her hands on my knees. She looked like she was afraid to put pressure on me. "Do you need some cloths, like you mother suggested?"

"No, I…maybe," I conceded sheepishly, watching the smile that tugged at the corners of her thin, pink lips. "But I can get them myself, you really don't have to do anything. It's my fault and my problem, really. I'm sorry you had to get roped in to this." I made a move to get up, but she pushed me back down for what seemed like the tenth time. She just kept stopping me.

"You _can, _but you _won't_, because I am going to get them for you. And don't go saying this is your fault in any way, because I won't believe you." With that, she got up and left the room after having warned me to stay where I was. I did, but only because I couldn't be bothered moving. A few minutes passed in silence as I contemplated what I was going to do. Would it be rude to simply fall asleep while she was around? What was I supposed to say to her? How did I thank her? I was at a loss, and I was left wishing that there was someone wiser and cleverer to do my thinking for me. It was too much work.

I heard my door click shut and looked up to see Brittany with a bowl of water and some cloths. I had so far neglected to really look at her properly, not trusting my eyes or my head to do her justice as tired and sore as they were. My eyes raked over her of their own accord, taking in her pale green, slightly-dirtied dress. _That_ was my fault. After all, if she hadn't come to get me, she wouldn't have had to mess up her petticoat. She caught me looking and my eyes were off her in a flash. I didn't dare catch her eyes, despite how much I wanted to look at her again. I felt more than I saw her kneel before me again, placing the bowl beside her and wetting one of the cloths. She nudged my knee, making me look at her to see the question in her eyes. I closed my own as a go-ahead.

I flinched at the cold pressed against the heat of my cheek; I was sure it was red and it felt like it was swollen. It was uncomfortable, the pressure causing little shots of pain to fire through me, and my face scrunched up which only made it worse. Brittany's touch, however, was as soft as she could have made it, and the cold of the cloth was soothing. (Maybe it was just her.)

"Does that hurt?" She asked, concerned. Her own brow was sporting a frown, and I tried to smile reassuringly.

"Not much," I said convincingly, but I think the grimace that followed as my muscles moved gave away just how much I hurt. I refused to even think _his_ name, but he sure had hard hands. I think it may have bumped my brain around in my head a bit when he hit me because my temples throbbed. "Really, it's much better. The cold helps." I opened my eyes, the want to see her winning out over the pain.

Her expression was still wary, but she was more confident this time as she pressed the cool material gingerly against my skin again. "I'm sorry this happened, Santana," she said so softly that I barely heard her.

"I'm not really. I'm only sorry that you had to do this. I mean, if it hadn't happened, I'd still probably be with…with him right now. Mama would have made me say yes." I looked down and her hand moved with my head, keeping the rag pressed against it.

"This, San, this isn't how it should have been. He shouldn't have hurt you. No one should ever hurt you." The tenderness in her expression made me want to cry. Maybe it was just the overwhelming exhaustion, but I _felt_ so much. "If you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened?" I tensed up, the memories still fresh. She must have noticed. "You don't have to…I'm sorry. Do you need to get changed?" She asked. She had removed the cloths and laid them back in the water bowl, shifting it to the table beside my bed. I did need to put on my nightgown, but I felt that I needed a wash at the basin as well.

"Uh, y—yes, I'll just—" Why weren't the words coming out of my mouth properly? There seemed to be some break in the line of communication between my brain and my voice. This wasn't helping my 'I'm fine' line.

"Did you want me to help you?" She looked so genuinely concerned that I wanted to say yes, help me to your heart's content, but I couldn't. I knew it was so, so wrong, but the thought of her helping me undress, of her seeing me like that gave me other thoughts, ones that weren't helping anybody. Just to think of the possibility of her touching my body, but properly, sent my heart into a frenzy and twisted my stomach into knots. But there was no chance of that ever happening, so what was stopping me?

It was that, I think. The fact that she would be so close yet I couldn't have her. And was she to sleep in my bed? I assumed so. I shouldn't have had the thoughts I did, but I couldn't help it. She was so incredibly beautiful that it was almost a crime not to want to worship that. Again, guilt flowed through me at my realisation that if she could know what I was thinking, she would be disgusted and leave me alone. She would hate me. I had created a little fantasy world, somewhere subconsciously in the back of my mind. It did me no good to dwell on it.

I was snapped back to the present, waking world as I felt a feather-light touch across my forehead. "Santana, are you alright? You look worried…" Oh, great. All I needed was for her to catch on to my less than honourable thoughts of her. No, there was no way she could or would know.

"Yes, I'll go change." I stood carefully, being mindful of my head, which pounded with every step I took. In my cupboard was a neatly folded white nightgown, which I took out and carried over to the basin with me. I was suddenly very self-conscious, something I had never been with any of my (few) other friends. Quinn and I had spent countless nights at one another's houses, and I had few qualms about dressing in front of her. I knew that my body was what men wanted in a woman, curves but not overly large, a petite frame and smooth, unblemished skin. I should have had no problems with Brittany seeing any part of me.

Oddly enough, I almost wanted her to. That was part of the reason that I didn't. I couldn't explain the feelings, the sensations or the strange pull that I felt towards her. I had accepted that it was there, but that didn't mean that I understood it. I didn't.

"Is there something wrong?" Brittany asked from across the room. She was placing another log on the fire, but stood and made her way over to me. She must have seen the way I hesitated for a while.

"N—no, nothing." I waved my hand a little, trying to indicate that she should go back to whatever she had been doing. I don't think she got the hint, because she stayed by me, waiting for me to do whatever it was I was going to do. I awkwardly began to wash my face, trying to be as gentle as I could so as not to hurt myself. To wash any more of my body, the dress would have to come off.

"Do you want me to undo your dress for you?" I noticed that she asked permission for everything before doing it. I appreciated that.

"I've got it…" I said, straining to reach my arms around to unlace it. It wasn't going to work. I sighed in defeat and wished it hadn't had to come to this.

She giggled behind me and moved to undo the laces that were holding my dress together. It felt odd to have her undress me. It felt…right. I might have been jumping the gun a little with my thoughts, but my mind was in overdrive and so was my heart. Everything seemed heightened. With each time she loosened a string, pale, lithe fingers brushed against my corset.

"There," she said finally. The dress loosened so I could slip it off easily. I had to do it, as uncomfortable as I might have been. She couldn't know. I stepped out of it, now only in my under-layers and my corset. I washed my arms as slowly as I could, prolonging the inevitable.

"I'll unlace your corset for you," she said softly, with no question this time. I couldn't do it myself, so there was no arguing. This time, her fingers practically brushed against bare skin, the only barrier being the almost non-existent white fabric layer beneath my corset

"Are you cold?" She asked, and I wondered what would make her think that. But I felt the goose bumps she raised on my skin, and I flushed red in the dimly lit room.

"Only a bit," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. I hoped it worked.

"The fire will warm up the room soon," she assured me, but I doubted that the fire would work to cure me of my ridiculous reactions. It should just be another touch to me, another pair of hands. But it wasn't; it was her hands. Her hands on my back unlacing my corset, and I couldn't get it out of my head. Was anything _ever_ going to be normal for me? I doubted it.

When she was done, she lifted the heavy undergarment from me, and I breathed a sigh of relief, both for being able to breathe and not having her unbearably close. I kept wanting to just…touch her. I wanted to know what she felt like, in every way. I wanted…

I wanted to kiss her.

Suddenly, I couldn't meet Brittany's eyes; knowing what I wanted, and how much it could never happen, made me feel so torn inside that I couldn't bring myself to look at her. I was ashamed, but it was overridden by the desire to hold her close and press my lips against her own. I didn't think I had every wanted anything more in my entire life. My breathing quickened again, and I turned my head away to where the nightgown lay. I had to put it on. I had to change, but how could I with a woman who I wanted to kiss standing right there?

I knew from books that being naked around someone you wanted to kiss usually led to something more, but this wasn't like that, and it could never be. I felt uncomfortable in my own skin, a prisoner, stuck in a place that I had never asked to be in but had somehow ended up trapped there anyway. But sometimes the torture was so sweet, the way she smiled and the tug at the corners of her mouth when she was amused, the glint in her blue eyes. I loved to see those things but I didn't know how to deal with _why_ I did. That was just it; I didn't know _how_ to do _anything_.

I turned to face away from her, and she seemed to understand this time, because she went back over to poke the fire, her own back to me. I quickly slipped off the thin material to replace it with my nightgown after a quick wash, and let the relief flow over me. I could just sleep everything away, except this time in a comfortable bed.

"Are you done?" Brittany asked gingerly from the fireplace. I nodded first before realising she probably didn't see it and amending my response.

"Yes, sorry about that. I'm just a little…shaken up." _Good. Use convincing responses and appear legitimate._ She moved toward me and stood right in front of me, studying my face. I shrank back a little under her stare, but she must have come to some sort of conclusion because she put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to the bed.

"You need to sleep, Santana," she said firmly. "Hopefully you'll feel better in the morning." She waited for me to get under the covers, but I simply stood there, wondering what I was supposed to do. Was she supposed to stay here? I wanted her to. She did say that she would stay with me. She needed to sleep somewhere too. Did that mean she would sleep in my bed? It was more than big enough; you could probably fit five people in it if you wanted to. She needed something to wear, so I guessed I would just have to let her wear one of mine. I really had no idea what I was supposed to do. I wished being polite came naturally to me.

"I know," I started, "but so do you. I feel bad enough already that you have to stay here," I said, trying to sound apologetic. Her face fell the tiniest bit, almost unnoticeably, "Not that I don't want you here," I amended quickly, "because I do, but I want to know that at least you will be comfortable and—"

"San," she cut in, her smile reaching her eyes and making the corners crinkle up. She looked so cute it was unbearable. "I'll be fine. I told you before, and I'll tell you again, I want to be here. I chose to be here. So stop feeling bad, alright?" She nudged me more towards the bed, where I sat reluctantly. It did feel good to rest though.

I nodded and looked up at her. "Take one of my nightgowns," I offered, "it might be a little short, but you can't sleep in that." I gestured to her dress, providing evidence for my argument. I was right; she would be uncomfortable and get hot if she fell asleep in that.

"Thank you. I will change, but for now you need to rest. I will be here when you wake up." She said this so gently that I felt I had to obey her, and slipped beneath the covers on one side of the bed. Laying my head on the pillow, I sighed contentedly, forgetting why I had ever been so anxious in the first place. I let the merciful pull of sleep drag me down into serenity, hoping I would not be plagued my bad dreams as I had been so often. Through the swirling shapes of impending unconsciousness, I barely registered the shuffling in the background, a door opening and closing once or twice, and the dip of the bed as another body slid in across from my own.

* * *

_Soft hands travelled up the sides of my body, leaving burning skin in their wake. Every part of me was tingling, every sense was filled with new smells and sights and tastes, the only sounds our breathing and quiet whispers. She was so soft, pressed against me, so soft and warm and beautiful. I longed to touch her too, but my hands wouldn't move. I felt hot and there was a knot in my stomach that was hungry, unable to be sated but by her. I wished for control of my body, but I could do nothing as she ghosted over me. I didn't mind the cool air on my bare skin because it was masked by the heat that seemed to radiate from both of us._

_Slowly, the air became too cool though, and I noticed a definite change in the atmosphere of the room. The skin against mine grew rougher, the body changing and distorting as I looked on in fear. I could feel it, but all my senses were blocking and I was at a loss. I felt a need to get out, to get away from the dark, slimy feeling that was crawling over me. I wanted her back; I wanted the soft, pale, almost glowing skin and the perfect form. I wanted her eyes and her perfume. A thick, greasy smell invaded my nostrils, making me cringe and forcing my throat to burn. It was disgusting. My limbs ached and the cold was sickening. My heart beat erratically, but in the worst way. I could feel the strain against my chest, the banging as it tried to escape this torture. Clammy hands snaked over my body, bared and vulnerable. They touched me in places I didn't want to be touched, but my body wouldn't do anything but squirm uselessly. "Keep still, Santana," a deep, arrogant voice said. Trapped in the grip of terror and still unable to go anywhere, I realised it was _him.

* * *

My body jerked violently as I was ripped unceremoniously from my dream turned nightmare, my heart thumping violently against the inside of my chest. I was covered in a cold sweat, the unwelcome images rushing at me again and again despite my waking, conscious self's internal screaming for them to disappear.

I felt an arm snake around my middle and yelped as I leapt back from the touch. I'd be damned if I was ever letting that bastard near me again. "Stop it!" I shouted, my throat sore and my voice not quite as strong as I had intended it to be. An irrational fear came over me, blinding me.

"Santana, shhh, it's okay," came a concerned but caring voice from nearby. I sat up in the sheets that were tangled around my feet, the darkness surrounding me making it impossible to see anything. I stopped moving for a moment, trying to calm down. _It was only a dream. Everything was a dream._ I let out a breath, which turned into a whimper somewhere along the way. I flinched slightly as a hand came up to cup my cheek but remained where I was, knowing it was only Brittany. "San, you're awake. It was just a dream," she whispered, repeating what my minds had been trying to tell me but in a more convincing way. I nodded against her palm and unwillingly let the first hot tear roll down my face. It fell onto her skin, and she must have felt it because she pulled me to her and wrapped her arms around me whispering comforts into my hair and stroking a thumb across my wet cheek. She let me cry, something I hated doing. I hated crying, because it was weak. I had cried more in recent weeks than I ever cared to have done.

The sobs began to subside and she lay us down, pulling me to her again. I hid my face against her shoulder, regretting that she had seen me like this. It was not something she should have had to deal with. I shook my head, simply wanting everything to go away. But she kept me there, her surprisingly strong body around my own like a wall, protecting me from the outside world. I hated to feel so pathetic, so useless as I did in that moment, wishing I were different. She was so right and I was so, so wrong. More tears slipped out and wet her nightgown.

As I calmed, my stomach was filled with the same butterflies as when I had first met her, except they were bigger and faster and raging around inside my abdomen. Pressed against her, curled into her, I could smell her intoxicating scent. I resisted the urge to place my lips against the smooth skin in the crook of her neck, pulling myself back with almost physical exertion to look up at her in the dark. I could barely make out the shapes of her face, my eyes having adjusted somewhat to the gloom. The fire had long since gone cold, which I was grateful for; it meant that there was virtually no light pervading the darkness of the room and she couldn't see my face properly either. I probably looked such a mess.

"Brittany…Britt, I—" I began, my voice on the verge of pleading. She placed a finger over my mouth, like we had before, to silence me. I closed my eyes, stilling my muscles so my lips didn't move against her finger.

"Don't. Don't you dare apologise. How many times do I have to tell you? I am here, of my own free will, and I want to make sure you are alright. If you aren't, I want to help you be. So I don't want your sorrys, Santana. I want to look after my friend." The sincerity of her tone silenced me properly, and I didn't know what to say. I felt like crying again, but this time for an entirely different reason. She was just so _perfect_.

"What did I do to deserve a friend like you?" I asked shakily, my breath coming slower now that the tears had stopped. She giggled quietly, the movement shaking her chest. I felt it and couldn't help but laugh too, the ridiculousness of the situation getting to me. Never in a million years had I thought this would happen. I don't think she had either.

"I think it's the other way around. I don't think I deserve a friend as amazing as you are," she said. I rolled my eyes, peering through the dark from beneath still-wet lashes.

"I don't think so. All I do is drag you into things you shouldn't have to be dragged in to. Then you have to prevent an episode of psychosis as I ruin your rest." As my eyes adjusted more, I could see the smile that graced her features. She was painfully beautiful. She shook her head and closed her closed her eyes for a moment.

"No, you gave me another opportunity to spend time with you. Well, I kind of took the opportunity, but it was there nonetheless. And you returned my locket, and you read to me and you saved me from the perils of a party. You helped me with my dress in town the village and you made me smile, which all adds up to amazing friend. If you ask me, you haven't done a single thing wrong," she finished firmly. My heart was giving my ribcage a run for its money.

"And that, right there, is why _you_ are the best friend anyone could ask for," I said. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I was a little bothered by being so open and actually talking about friends and feelings. But I decided that my foolish insecurities were not worth ruining this moment or her smile, pushing down all my uncertainties so I could return that smile.

When I looked back to her, she seemed hesitant, like she wanted to say something but then again didn't. I had seen that look a lot on her recently; she looked undecided. I supposed it fitted in with the airiness of her movements and the sincerity of her compliments, and the way she sometimes said strange things. She finally spoke.

"If you don't mind me asking… what was your dream about? Or… bad dream…" she asked softly.

I froze, wondering what she had seen. Had I said anything in my sleep? Oh dear God, I hoped not. What if I had said something when…? If I had, I would die of embarrassment. I pulled back from her a little bit, some of the memories from my dream returning quickly. I mean, the first part of my dream – the good part, the part with her. My eyes widened and my cheeks reddened. Luckily she wouldn't have been able to see it in the dark. I shut my eyes against the images, but they wouldn't stop. They were terrifying and incredible at the same time, but I only felt my guilt worsen and pulled back until only her hand was on my arm. I couldn't be so close to her with these thoughts running through my head. I felt like I was betraying her. Her brows scrunched together, her expression barely readable in the lack of light.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," she said, sounding almost disappointed but definitely regretful.

"No, I uh… it's okay. I just… he was there," I said, going for the easy option. There was no way I was ever going to tell her about the first part, or anyone for that matter. I almost didn't want to admit it to myself. But it had felt so _right_ that I couldn't ignore it. I just couldn't realise it either.

"Oh," was all she said. She considered this for a while, trying to come up with something else to say. I let her, simply wallowing in the aftermath of my dream. He really had been there. I was equivocating, not lying. His repulsive hands had been all over me, all over my body, tainting it. His… I couldn't think about it. It was only a dream, and yet I felt violated. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't woken up.

"You were just… moving a lot. Like you were in pain. It got worse, San. I don't want you to hurt." It was almost childlike, the innocence she bared in that statement. My insides were melting at her concern, and it made me wish I had more people like her in my life; more people who cared.

"I was just—I was scared, Britt. I hate him so much. I know I shouldn't fear anyone, especially fools like him, but I did. I mean, I do. I'm still… scared. To think that I almost had to marry him," I said, horrified at the thought. Brittany moved closer again, and I let her. She was so close I could feel her breath tickling on my skin, feel the warmth coming off of her. It made me want to snuggle into her and never let her go.

"But he's not here. It's just us, San. Nothing to worry about here. I can assure you that I won't hit you," she said, putting her hand over her heart for good measure. I chuckled at her, nodding as a grin tugged at the corners of my mouth.

"I know, I know. It's just… still fresh, you know? I can still feel it." Our voices were almost whispers, despite there being no one else around us. The dark made me feel like I had to speak quietly, for some reason. Wouldn't want to disturb the lurking shadows.

She lifted a hand to brush the hair from my forehead, making my breath hitch softly. I hoped she hadn't caught it. I really had to stop letting these things happen. "Not every touch is going to hurt. You can stop flinching every time I do that, Santana." She said, sounding a bit upset. Wonderful, now she thought it was because I was scared of _her_. Never.

"No, it's not—" Wait, where was I planning to go with that explanation? It's not that, it's just that I want to kiss you and every time you touch me it feels like fire in the best way possible? No. I stopped trying and just looked down. "It's not that." I said no more, having given the best explanation I could for the moment. Nothing was easy. I shivered, the cold of the room now seeping through to my body, the covers still pushed down to our feet.

"Aren't you ever warm?" Brittany teased, choosing not to dwell on my answer. She reached down to the foot of the bed, where the layers of blankets were in a crumpled heap and pulled them back over us. They were cold too, the chilled air of the room having made them so, and only made me shrink back into the mattress. "Still cold?" She asked with what I think was faux exasperation. I hoped she wasn't annoyed; the last thing I wanted was to be a chore.

"I'll be fine, really. The blankets are just cold." I said, rubbing my hands together to keep them warm. I wiggled my legs a bit too, trying to generate heat. I was failing miserably.

"Come here," she said, not demandingly, but gently. I looked up at her, wary and a little confused.

"Why?" I asked, still trying to warm myself up.

"Because you're cold. Just trust me, come over here," she said again, opening her arms. "Don't make me drag you," she warned, half serious. I shuffled over to her, relishing the warmth that she provided. How did she do that? I was freezing, and I had been _trying_ to get warm. She was just generally warm. She pulled me in, almost against her. "Now turn around," she added, which I did, apprehensively. We were now facing the same direction, but my back was pressed to her front as she tugged me closer, her arms winding around my waist.

My first thought was how perfectly we fit together.

"What are w—" I didn't even get to finish before she answered me.

"I'm warming you up," she said matter of fact-ly, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. I wished I could be as fearless as her. But then again, she didn't have the feelings that I did, the thoughts or the guilt. She didn't have the tingling in her stomach or a flutter of her heart when we touched. She was normal. I could feel every part of her against me, and an odd feeling shot through me. A heat seemed to pool between my legs, an almost uncomfortable feeling settling, but aching for something. Every nerve ending in my body was overly sensitive. I wanted so much to just turn back around and kiss her. My brain was warring with my heart and my body, and it eventually won out as I lay there, warmed by our collective body heat. Mostly hers, though.

"Better?" She asked, sighing contentedly.

"Much," I said, not giving her any reason to think I was uncomfortable with the way we were lying. I wasn't uncomfortable in the way that I didn't want to be there, I was uncomfortable in the way that I _did_ want to be there… too much. Involuntarily, I pressed into her further as if I could just melt away and never have to deal with the world again.

"I think this is what mice do," she said after a while, and I could feel when she spoke as much as I could hear it. My face contorted in confusion even though she couldn't see it, and I had to think about her statement for a moment.

"You mean…huddle for warmth?" I thought I understood what she meant. It was an unexpected connection for her to make, but it was true. I wouldn't have thought of it.

"Yes. I mean, they stay together in big, warm piles when it's cold, I think. You remind me of cold mice." My expression turned incredulous, wondering at the fact that I reminded her of a mouse.

"I make you think of _mice_?" I asked, feigning offense.

"No, no… I mean, not like that. Granted, you're not very big—"

"I resent that observation," I grumbled, cutting in.

"That can be a good thing… like… you can fit into smaller spaces. You can hide better." She was seriously trying to find advantages of my height? And things for children's games, no less?

"I don't suppose you would be saying that so cheerfully if you were shorter." I challenged tiredly. I could feel my eyelids begin to droop, begging me to close them and let them rest. I didn't want to though; I wanted to stay awake and talk to her and know that she was next to me, to spend as much time as possible with her because, quite simply, I liked it. I just liked having her around. I wanted to take full advantage of the time we had, even if it had come about because of something not so good. She made everything else seem so insignificant with talk of things that didn't really matter, but obviously were important to her.

"Maybe not, but we'll never know." She was quiet again for a while, and I let the silence be. It was comforting, and I found myself beginning to drift off a little again. Not fully, but just floating above the webs of sleep that threatened to pull me down into unconsciousness. Her soft whisper of my name pulled me back from my almost-sleep as I mumbled to myself, blinking blearily into the dark. Brittany's giggle made me open my eyes properly and a smile settled on my face at the sound. Lucky for me, once again, she couldn't see. I tended to smile a lot around her.

"Sorry San, were you asleep?" She asked gently.

"I don't think so," I replied, my mental capacity severely diminished by the warmth and the exhaustion flowing through my body. She breathed another sorry, then told me to go back to sleep.

"I'll see you in the morning," she said, tightening her arms around me. That made me wonder what time it really was. It was surely the dead of night. There wasn't a single noise anywhere save for the breeze and our heartbeats. Hers was beating steadily, a reassuring rhythm that was lulling me back to sleep. I think I tried to nod, but I wasn't sure if it worked or not. A few minutes passed and I was almost gone when I caught a barely audible, "Are you asleep yet? I didn't respond, and I probably couldn't have anyway. I just let myself slip away slowly. I heard her voice again, even softer. "Goodnight San, sweet dreams." By that point, I was probably already dreaming, because I could have sworn I felt a soft pair of lips pressing against my shoulder.

I was definitely dreaming.

* * *

_**Author's Note: **__Hoping it won't be too long before I have the next chapter ready, in which I can __promise__ you something good. Thanks for all your reviews and favourites and things, once again, and let me know what you think! Sometimes I think my writing gets a little long-winded… should I try to cut down on the 'waffling'?_


	9. The Wrong Letter

_**Author's Note: **__Real world kicked my ass, and I just came out for an exam period that will determine what I can do next year (sorry for actually studying this time around_ |:_)_._ Here is yet another (kinda long) chapter for you, and like I promised, I gave you something good. Thanks to my lovely Beta, Ryan47, without whom I would have many typos..._

_Also, kind-of-important things in the ending AN._

* * *

I woke up in her arms, wrapped up in her, with her soft breathing in my ear and her heartbeat matching my own. At least I think I did, but there was every possibility that I was _still_ dreaming, because the likelihood of this moment seemed almost non-existent in the real world. Soon though, our hearts slipped out of their synchrony as mine sped up, as if trying to push me closer to her with each beat. The rhythm of hers, instead of easing my mind and my senses into peacefulness, now made me very aware of just how close we were. Her hold was loosened by sleep; her hands were locked in front of me, resting softly on my middle. With each rise of my chest as I breathed in, I could _feel_ her fingers grazing and shifting over my skin, setting my entire body alight. I could feel the flush in my cheeks, but more importantly, once again this newfound sensation that flowed between my legs. Never before had I felt anything quite like it, the intensity of it toying with my mind and provoking thoughts and sensations I didn't know I could have.

All I knew about what I was feeling came from books, and even then I didn't know if it was the same thing. I found myself wanting to do something to end it, to end the discomfort that it brought, but I couldn't move, trapped as I was by Brittany's arms. I hadn't the heart to wake her – that was assuming she wasn't already awake. Was she? No, her breathing was far too even and her body occasionally shifted in the way that one does when it is asleep, deep in the throes of the dream world. Occasionally, she would miss a breath or her arms would twitch, which I took as a sign that she wasn't awake yet. I wondered idly what the time was and if anyone else in the house was up, apart from the servants. I doubted it, seeing as none of us had much to do on a Monday except Papa. He was probably gone early anyway.

I supposed that I would just have to lie here, trying not to disturb Brittany. That would leave me so much time to think… too much time. These days, when I had time to simply sit and get lost in my mind, nothing ever seemed to end well. I ended up scared, hurt, lost, disappointed, or wishing for something I could never have. When had things become so complicated? I sighed heavily and snuggled back down into the covers gently so I didn't move her. I think it worked, because she shifted quietly and then went back to her sleepy stillness.

Before long, my thoughts came to settle on what in Hell I was supposed to do now. By now, I meant in the coming days, weeks and months. Would I have more proposals of marriage? If so, I would undoubtedly turn every one of them down. If not, I supposed that was a good thing. Mama, however, would not be so happy. She won't have learned from what happened and will probably actively seek out more suitors. At least I knew how to say no.

And then there was the matter of… Brittany. I wondered when I had let this get so out of hand. When I first laid eyes upon her, I suppose I should have known that there was something different about her, and in turn, about me when I was with her. She made me want to smile and giggle in ways I hadn't thought I ever would, and do things that I would normally have written off as uninteresting, or out of character for me. But no, the more time we spent together the more time I wanted us to spend together. The more she said, the more I wanted her to say. And the more I liked her, the more I wanted her to like me back.

She stirred slightly beside me for what seemed like the hundredth time, and I tried to be as still as possible so she wouldn't be pulled back to the real world in a moment of susceptibility. I wished so much that I could see her. I wanted to watch her, to watch the gentleness of sleep wash over her face and her features contorting as she dreamt of things I could only begin to imagine. Was she dreaming of good things? I didn't know, but I hoped so. I wondered who was in her dreams. What did a _Lady_ dream of?

I couldn't help but wish I knew the inner workings of her mind. Sometimes I felt like she was so easy to read, how she was feeling displayed plainly in her eyes. Other times it seemed as though there was something I was missing. And it didn't matter that I hadn't known her for long, because I _felt_ like I had known her for a lifetime.

This time, it didn't appear that she was going back to sleep. She kept moving lightly against me, until there was a small distance between my back and her front. Already I could feel the cool morning air seeping through the crack and I missed the warmth of her body. Her arm was still around my middle, and I wondered if she knew I was awake. I stayed fairly still as I felt her tense behind me, stretching and waking up her sleepy muscles.

I let my eyes stay closed, and my breathing even as I lay there. She soon moved back to me, pulling me into her so her breath was hitting my neck again. I felt her head move and then her lips were at my ear.

"Santana?" She whispered softly. I didn't know whether it was better to let her know I was awake, and had been for a while, or to simply give us both the chance to go back to sleep. "Are you awake?" I rolled my eyes behind their lids but a small smile formed on my lips anyway.

She must have seen it. "San, I saw that. I know you're awake," her voice was only slightly above a whisper, a merciful thing for my still-tender senses. I frowned a little as I opened my eyes properly, the light an unwelcome intrusion. I shut them tight again quickly, giving them a moment to adjust.

"Good morning," I said, my throat dry and scratchy. I swallowed a couple of times, trying to get rid of the feeling. I brought my hands up to rub at my eyes as she released her hold on me, only to gently pull my body around so I was facing her. She was so close, our faces mere inches apart. I was struck by how staggeringly beautiful this woman was, her eyes piercing into my own and her hair falling in soft, ruffled waves around her face. She looked just as sleepy as I felt, and she gave a tiny yawn.

"Good morning to you too," she said, a grin gracing her features. I had never known anyone to be so chipper so early in the morning. Then again, no matter what time of day, Brittany always seemed ready for some kind of joy or excitement or simple happiness. It was one of the many things I had come to admire about her—she was so different from me in almost every way. I for one was never a morning person and usually yelled at the first living, or sometimes non-living, thing I saw.

But there was no way I was going to yell at her, looking as lovely as she did and having provided the warmth and comfort that she had. I didn't think waking up had ever been such a pleasant experience.

"How long have you been awake?" She asked. I wasn't sure how to answer that, because I had sort of lost track of time myself. I had no idea what time I had woken up or how long I had been lying here. I didn't really care either.

"A while," I replied vaguely, still watching her brilliant blue eyes. Neither the skies nor the oceans had ever even come close to creating the shade of cerulean that her eyes did. It was hypnotic to look into them, but I had to stop staring before she thought I was strange. I looked down a little, finding nothing in particular but our bodies disappearing beneath the blankets.

"Did you sleep well?" She prompted, obviously wanting more than the half-hearted responses she was receiving.

The truth was, I had. Better than I had possibly ever slept before. Once she had wrapped herself around me, I had fallen into a deep, quiet sleep that, for the first time in what felt like forever, let me rest. Really, truly rest. I had the sneaking suspicion that it was entirely because of her. What other explanation was there?

I answered her truthfully. "I did, actually," I said. "I don't think I've ever slept better." Upon adding this, I felt my cheeks flush red and hoped she wouldn't notice. Those words probably held little, if any, meaning for her. But to me, they were a vulnerability. I didn't share things—it simply wasn't what I did. The me I knew would never have admitted that last part. She would have left it at 'well'.

This response seemed to please her, though, as her smile grew wider and the tiniest of dimples appeared on her cheeks. I don't think a simple smile had ever left me more breathless than hers did.

I found it odd to be feeling these things. I was a stranger to romance, having only read it played out in the lives of fictional characters. I had never expected, except perhaps as a childhood fantasy, to ever feel these things about another person. I had given it up long ago, merely condemning myself to the existence of a woman who had no cares for any other beyond herself. Yet here I was, facing a woman who I felt was more beautiful and worthy of what little affection I had than anyone I had ever met. It was so strange to feel my heart trying to escape from my chest and my blood having a race around my veins. It was strange for me to think of all the things about her that I liked, that intrigued me. But most importantly, it was so strange to want to kiss her.

I felt the tug, as I had before, to simply lean in and feel the softness of her lips against my own, for I was sure that's what they were. I was sure all of her was soft. I had never _wanted_ to kiss anyone before, either. I didn't know what it felt like, but all I knew was that a kiss was what people gave to one another when they cared for them. When…when they…really liked them.

But there was no way I could ever kiss her. She was the last person who would kiss me back, simply because she was a woman. I hated that. I hated that I couldn't let myself like her in that way because I could never give her all of myself. She deserved a man who could show her to the world, who could love her properly, everywhere. I couldn't give her that.

What the Hell was I even saying? There was no point dwelling on this like I was. She didn't feel the same way about me. There wasn't a chance. I felt such a deep, dark sadness at my thoughts that I could feel myself visibly slump. I wondered how long I had been occupied in my own head. By the way she was scrutinising me, I guessed it had been a while.

"You're thinking very loudly," she said. My head shot up, and I spent one horrifying moment believing that I had said something out loud.

"I uh… did I say something?" I squeaked, the sheer terror overcoming me at the possibility of her having heard my words. If I ever uttered even one tiny bit of what I was thinking to any other living soul on this planet, I don't know what I would do. My fears were quelled somewhat when she shook her head, her brown creasing.

"No, but I wish you would. You look like you're struggling to figure out the meaning of life. You think too much, San." She shook her head, as best she could against the pillow, as she spoke. I huffed a tiny sigh of relief.

For the first time in my life, I really had something to fear. Not just for myself, but for my family, for my friends—even for Brittany. I wouldn't drag them down with me when I was condemned to a mental institution or made to repent for my sins every minute of my life. If I wasn't normal, and somehow that came back to haunt me, then I would keep myself far from anyone I cared about. The problem was, there was no way to detach _myself_ from any of this. I was stuck, in a woman's body and with a heart that had decided, above all, that the one person on this Earth that it wanted was another woman.

"Oh," was all I could muster for a while, as I lay there, slightly further away from her. I had moved, creating more distance between us, no matter how much I hated to. I didn't know if I would be able to stop myself from kissing her if I stayed so close. Finally my brain began to function properly again, pulling itself through the quagmire that was my self-pity. I was most definitely wallowing in it. "I was…" I began, the words slipping from my tongue before I was ready to say any more. I felt as though I was always at a loss for words when I was around her. "Thinking's important."

"Not if it's hurting you. It looked like it was hurting you." She brought up one hand from beneath the covers to tap lightly against my forehead. "This here is very important. Don't tire yourself out before the day even starts," she said wisely, but all I could register was the feeling of her warm hands on my forehead. My skin was cool because of the air in the room. The fire had long since died.

The tingles that struck once again were almost painfully wonderful. I was still sort of in disbelief that the touch of another person, let alone a woman, could do this to me; I was left melted, like I could just disintegrate into a swarm of butterflies or something.

I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, breathing in through my nose to steady myself. "I know," was all I managed. I didn't open them again for a while. As her friend, I didn't get to feel these things. It wasn't my place to be thinking these things. I tried to clear my mind and just let things be what they were.

"How are you feeling?" She asked gingerly, as if the question itself might bring back the pain of yesterday. Her words brought my attention to the fact that my head was throbbing ever so slightly and I could feel the muscles in my neck hurting, though they hadn't been yesterday. I wasn't sure if I was getting bruises there, but it still felt as though his hands were around my throat. My breathing got only a little faster, as if I was trying to make up for any air that I missed in those moments that now felt like a lifetime ago. But despite all of this, despite the aching and the anger, I was feeling better. She had this way of making it all wash away like it didn't matter. She stayed with me, and that meant more to me than she would ever know.

"I'm…better," I told her. She looks at me seriously for a moment, as though trying to judge whether what I was saying was the truth or not. She must have been satisfied because she nodded lightly and lifted her frown.

"Good. That's good," she said matter of fact-ly. She thought for a moment before she spoke again. "I hate him," she said, rushing her words together, her brows furrowing again. She looked shocked and apologetic afterwards, but her eyes told me she meant it. "Sorry, I mean… I hate him, San. I hate what he did to you. I hate that I can't do anything about it. I just wish I could go hit _him_." She grumbled with a scowl, and I couldn't help but think that it looked misplaced on her. It was, though, an endearing expression to say the least. I felt that flutter again at how much she looked like she genuinely cared. Even if it wasn't in the same way as me, she seemed like she cared, properly. I didn't know really if I could let my defences down all the way but I had faith that with her, I wouldn't be hurt. Well, intentionally, anyway. I was treading dangerous waters for myself here, and she was none the wiser. Luckily.

My lips pressed together into a thin line, a sort of half-smile that said, 'oh well'. I looked at her, thinking about how she seemed sorry for hating someone, like it was something she felt like she shouldn't be doing. It didn't surprise me, actually. She was the least hateful person I had ever met. When she got irritated, it was almost childish in the best kind of way…innocent.

So when I looked back up at her, the hint of darkness I saw playing in her eyes was anything but expected. It was the first time I had seen anything in her eyes that wasn't a stark reflection of the good in this world, which she had made me believe existed. No, it didn't belong in her eyes, but it was there. I thought that if she had seen him, maybe she would have really hit him. She looked ready. But as soon as she saw me watching her, her eyes lit up again and she smiled. I was left wondering if I'd imagined it.

Her hand came up to touch my cheek, pressing ever so tenderly on what I was sure was a bruise. Now it was her turn to sigh as she shook her head against the pillows. "What are we going to do with you?" She mused to herself.

She took her hand back and we were silent for a while before I decided that there was something pressing I needed to tell her, and that was 'thank you'.

"Brittany," I started, and she looked at me curiously. "You know what…how much this meant to me, don't you? I mean, you staying here. With me. I know I was probably a nuisance and that waking you up in the dead of night probably wasn't the best way to show my gratitude, but what I'm trying to say now is…thank you. I don't think I would have liked to spend last night alone." I looked down meekly as I spoke.

By the time I finished, her expression was soft. I hoped that what I had said was able to convey at least some of what I felt, and if not then I hoped my eyes were doing it for me. Sometimes I found it so difficult to show anyone any part of me, be it my heart or my voice or, like now, my eyes. But I forced myself to try, for her. Humans were unique like that. We don't just do things for ourselves; sometimes we do things purely for the benefit of another person. I knew I didn't necessarily always do that, but if I had found someone who made me want to try, then I would. A little uncomfortable for a lot of good.

She settled on a simple, "I know, Santana," before readjusting her head so that it was only the tiniest bit closer to mine. It was that small movement that made me realise just how close we were again. It seemed that my attempt to put distance between us earlier had been erased and now I was so close I could study every freckle on her perfectly smooth skin and trace the outlines of her features with my eyes. I was mesmerised, as I was sure anyone in my position would have been. I virtually had beauty personified before me, which was the rarest thing in the world save for the purity of her heart.

"What do you know?" I asked shakily. I thought I knew; I thought that she meant that she knew how sorry I was for something she had told me not to be sorry about. That she meant she knew she hadn't had to stay. I guessed that those were the things she knew.

She smiled again gently. "I just _know_. I know you're sorry, and I know it was my choice to stay, and I know that I don't regret one minute of it. I _know_ other things, too. I know that there are twenty-four hours in a day and that there are more stars in the sky than there are people in London. I know that snow melts when it gets warm and that the grass is greenest in spring. I know that horses are faster than humans and birds can fly faster than horses. Well, horses can't fly at all. You see, I know lots of things, but I don't think I've ever _believed_ something that I know more than I _believe_ that you're already the best person I've ever met." With every word she spoke, I thought I could feel little pieces of my heart being chipped off and then stuck back on, but maybe in the wrong places because I could _feel_ the ache that was begging me to reach out for her. I kept my arms firmly under the covers and I kept my eyes down so she wouldn't see whatever was in them. It might even have been little wells of tears. God, I hated crying.

When I trusted my voice, I asked, "Really?"

"Yes. I believe it." I could feel her nod. "And that's why I never wanted to see you get hurt and now that you have been, I want to make sure it never happens again." There was a heavy silence as her words hung between us. "I'm sorry, I've said too much. Just uh, just promise me you won't forget it, alright?" She moved herself further back from me again and rolled over onto her back. Neither of us said anything for a very long time after that.

"You're the best person I've ever met too, did you know?" I said quietly, but my voice was stronger than it had been since I had woken up. I turned my head to her and watched her profile as her lips pulled up. I felt a sense of accomplishment wash over me at that; making her smile did that to me. "I don't want _you_ to forget that, either."

For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt properly confident in what I was saying. I knew I had said the right thing the moment I saw her lips quirk into that grin, but now I was sure of it. She turned to face me and we spent a second like that, but the rays of light reaching through the curtains reminded me of how long we'd been lying there. I wondered if she had wanted to get up or eat breakfast. I was never good with guests.

"Would you like to go downstairs for breakfast?" I asked. She looked surprised at the sudden change of subject but seemed to accept it. She was thoughtful for a moment before answering.

"Only if you're hungry. We'll go downstairs when you're ready to go downstairs." It wasn't a question or an argument; it was a simple statement, and I appreciated it for what it was. I didn't think I would ever be _ready_ to go down there, but I knew I would have to face the day, with or without her. Fortunately, it seemed that this morning it would be _with_ her.

I sighed. "We should go. I'm sure you're just as hungry as I am." As if to answer me, her stomach growled and she giggled. My stomach became unsettled too, but in a completely different way. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" My question still hadn't been answered, but that was probably because I had only asked myself in my head.

"Not a clue," she said, humming faintly.

"My clock broke a few weeks ago and I don't have a new one. When I'm in here I have no concept of time," I said thoughtfully. I wondered why I was telling her these things. Even _I_ didn't really care.

"That is the best way to live." I'd known that her response would be profound in some way or another; that was just the way she was. Things she said didn't necessarily always relate to the topic or join up with _my_ train of thought in any way, but they were always important. I remembered a lot of the things she had said to me.

"Well, I'm going to take a completely unsubstantiated guess and say that it's about ten o'clock." Brittany looked at me strangely for a moment before she shrugged.

"I don't really know what that means, but I'll agree anyway," she nodded modestly and I nodded back. There was a moment where neither of us really knew what to do before she said, "Getting up usually begins with actually getting out of bed."

I laughed quietly and pulled myself up, running a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to comb any knots out. Fortunately, it seemed to have stayed fairly good through the night.

Brittany's, on the other hand, wasn't as smooth; she had strands sticking out every which way and I tried to suppress my amusement. She looked positively adorable, but it was still made me laugh a little.

She didn't seem to care though, copying my actions to run a hand through her own golden hair. Her hair was flat again in no time.

"Right, um… did you want me to leave while you get dressed? Oh, do you need to borrow a dress or anything?" I felt the awkwardness begin to creep over me again, and I could feel my cheeks wanting to heat up. I pushed down any embarrassment I might have felt, because there was no reason to be so.

"You can leave if you want. But I will probably have to call you back in to help me lace up," she said, seemingly unaffected by anything. Oh, I had forgotten. I was the only strange one.

"Well then, I'll just be uh… over here. Tell me when you need help," I said, moving over to my dresser and making a point of not looking in my mirror yet. I focused on the array of bottles and jars on the table and interested myself with a perfume.

"And thank you for the offer, but my mother sent the driver back here with a new dress last night. She's always prepared for the practi-cat-ilies of life." It took me a second to realise that she meant 'practicalities', but I just smiled and let it go.

"Alright,' was all I responded with. I could hear the rustling behind me as she changed and I made all the more effort to keep my eyes fixed on what was in front of me. I didn't even know why, but the thought of her body did something to me. She was just so damn beautiful that I wanted to look at her and never stop, not once. I could watch her forever and never get bored. It was like my eyes were drawn by some invisible force to her form, but I mentally chastised myself, taking a deep breath and ignoring my impulses.

"San?" came her call from across the room, letting me know that she was ready for my help. Problem was, I didn't know if I was ready to give it. I stood, breathing in quietly and slowly before turning to face her. I walked over to her, convincingly unaffected. She didn't have a full corset, only an underdress that was slipped over her figure loosely and a short stay. I personally loved that corsets were less fashionable now than they used to be. I only really had to wear one on 'special occasions' because my mother insisted that I looked… whatever it made me look. Thinner? Prettier? Either way, they were a nuisance to lace up and to wear. The back of Brittany's underdress was open, revealing a sliver of smooth, pale skin. Was it so wrong that I wanted to touch it? Yes, it was. So I pulled the strings together, just so that it fit her snugly, and tied them, all the while ignoring her body that was right beneath my hands.

I wondered for a moment if this was what all the men felt when they looked at women. Did they want… to touch me? I shivered at the thought, not wanting to dwell on the hands of men upon any woman's body. When I was finished, she nodded her thanks and I went back to the vanity, less concerned with keeping my eyes off the mirror now that she was decent. I didn't really have any intentions of using the products in front of me, but I fiddled with them until she came over to me and placed a hand on the table-top. I could see her standing behind me in the mirror in her pastel blue dress, and I watched her fingers tapping and dancing idly across the surface.

"You can go get dressed now," she said, smiling, "and I'll be right here when you need help." She ushered me off the stool and over to my closet before leaving me again.

I turned to pick out a dress, but not giving it too much thought. I knew she would give me the same respect that I had her, probably more. Undoubtedly more. I changed quickly and before I knew it, I needed her to fix it.

"Uh, Britt? I need some help," I mumbled. No questions asked, she stood and walked over, pulling lightly on the strings at my back. When she was done though, she lingered slightly. I went to ask if there was something wrong, but my words got caught in my throat when her hand came up to push my hair back over my shoulders. I froze, physically unable to move. Her fingers brushed lightly over my skin, and I begged my body not to betray me.

"There are bruises on your neck." It was so quiet, so soft, that I almost didn't catch it. Her full palm was now pressed against the side of my neck, ghosting with so little pressure that I could only just feel it.

I didn't know what to say to that. I just wanted to forget everything. I wanted to forget it all, but everyone, including my own body, seemed intent on reminding me. I might as well have been a statue for all the moving I was doing, but then she wasn't doing much either.

"San, you…" she trailed off, leaving me wondering what that unfinished sentence was to have been. She tried again. "What if you – what if he…" was all she could manage. But it didn't even have to be said. He hadn't, and that was that. I would never see him again, and neither would she. We needed not to dwell on something that couldn't be fixed.

"I know, Brittany. But he didn't." I kept my eyes straight ahead. "I'm fine, so long as I never see him again." Well, I wouldn't mind if it allowed me revenge, but as it stood I almost hoped the bastard was already dead.

"Sorry." She moved her hand away from my skin, her gentle touch leaving an odd coolness in its wake. I finished dressing myself as she milled about the room, looking a little lost. Once again, I wondered how she was still here. The room became a little darker as the sun hid itself behind the few wispy clouds wandering across the otherwise clear sky, taking the warmth of the room with it.

"Shall we?" I prompted as I moved over to her, trying to go back to the light mood of earlier. I didn't want to be serious today. I wanted everything to go back to normal, even though my day hadn't necessarily started off that _normally_.

"Oh. Sure." She smiled quickly, blinking as though I had pulled her from thought. It didn't reach her eyes.

I stopped walking and frowned, watching her as she hurried towards the door. "Are _you_ okay?" I asked, putting emphasis on the change of subject. Her head snapped back to me, the same tight smile on her features.

"Why shouldn't I be?" was her short reply. I didn't know what I'd said, but it seemed as though she just wanted to get out of the room. My frown deepened and I wished that I could know how to handle situations like these. I was glaring at the floor when I felt a little finger slip around my own. I hadn't even noticed her moving, but suddenly she was in front of me.

"San, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I meant that I'm fine." She waited until I was looking at her to finish. "Just worry about yourself. I'll be fine as long as you're fine." This time her smile was genuine. I relaxed a little when I saw the tension visibly leave her body. I didn't want to be the cause of her discomfort, in any way.

What if she knew? I kept coming back to the same fear, the fear that she, or anyone else, _knew _there was something wrong with me. It scared the living daylights out of me. But there was no damn way, so I needed to stop worrying.

"Now how about that breakfast?" she asked, a hint of her playful self in her voice. For me to be okay I needed her to be okay; it worked both ways. I nodded and followed her out the door, falling into step beside her as we made our way down the hallway. She spoke about her cat, and about her new music, and about how her sister was going to have a baby. I listened, happy to just get lost in her cheery mood. Her conversation was such a refreshing break from anything else I was ever able to talk about.

Breakfast was filled with the same kinds of useless yet still somehow interesting talk of nothing in particular, over toast and tea. I even found myself laughing a few times, and had almost forgotten the seriousness of reality by the time we had finished eating. It had been only about a half hour off when I had guessed the time, meaning that the clock in the hall was just striking ten when we stood to leave the table. No one else was around, either being still asleep or too lazy to get up, so the house was quiet. Nothing save for the bustling of the housekeepers disturbed us as we sat in the drawing room. I read a little, and she insisted that I tell her stories, which I did after much of her pleading. I didn't even notice time passing and the people that slowly started to appear around us.

By the time midday rolled around, everyone was up. I willed them all back to bed in my mind so that I could stay in my perfect world doing nothing much with Brittany. She seemed happy enough, though, to talk to my family and even to Harietta. I wished that being social came as naturally to me as it did to her. She could entertain like no one I'd ever met, even though it was in the most unexpected of ways.

My box of deluded reality was shattered when my mother, at about two in the afternoon, simply had to bring up the topic of Brittany leaving. She didn't tell her to leave, but she asked when she would be going and how long she would like to stay. Brittany had looked to me out of the corner of her eye, and I tried to convey to her through my expression that I didn't want her to go, unless of course she really wanted to. I don't know if I managed to get the complexity of my request across, as she merely answered that she would stay for as long as we wanted her.

Not minutes later, however, a black coach was outside the house, sent from Chatsworth. My mother was talking to the driver as Brittany collected her things from my room. I stood in the doorway and watched her, hoping she would just stay and forget about having to go back home. She hadn't even left, and yet I already missed her at the thought of being left alone again. It had been so nice, for a change, to have her just be there, whether in silence or in animated chatter. Her presence had been comforting, and I knew that once she was gone there would be no stopping the demons that seemed intent on haunting me. She kept them away.

"Are you sure you have to go?" I asked, sighing as Brittany pursed her lips together in amusement at my tone.

"Just because I have to, doesn't mean I want to," she said, having gathered up her things. She sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to her. I conceded tentatively, curious but glad that she wasn't leaving quite yet.

Once I'd sat down, she didn't say anything, merely shifting herself closer to me so that our arms were almost touching. "Britt?" I prompted quietly, wondering if she had anything to say. There were so many things that I could have said, but I didn't say any of them. I waited for her.

It was another few moments before she did speak. "I'm really happy you're alright, Santana," she said seriously. She turned her head a little to look at me and the corners of her mouth turned up every so slightly. I smiled back, which caused hers to grow until we were grinning at one another. My stomach was doing flips at how perfect she looked, but it didn't even make me falter one bit. For once, I let myself enjoy seeing her in the way that I wanted to, not caring how wrong people might say it was. She was beautiful, and I'd be damned if I didn't appreciate it.

"Me too." And I was. I had managed, somehow, to come out with the kind-of upper hand in this situation; I wasn't getting married. Well, to Idiot Obelyn anyway. Quite frankly, I couldn't be more relieved, even if I had gone through some psychological, not to mention physical, trauma to get what I wanted. If I looked past that, it had brought her to me and removed the immediate threat of forced matrimony. Things were looking up.

Brittany shook her head and looked at her lap. "And to tell you the truth," she giggled, "I had a plan to sneak you into the coach and take you home with me." I couldn't help but laugh too, and wonder at how adorable she was. I saw the way her eyes crinkled in the corners and she practically glowed when she was amused.

I was in such trouble.

"I was going to stand in front of you the whole way out the door so no one could see that I was taking you," she continued, "but then I realised that there are a number of things wrong with that plan, not to mention that your family would notice your absence sooner or later." She looked into the distance in thought, and I grudgingly thought, _doubt it._

"I wish you didn't have to go," I said again. Things were so much more fun with her around.

"I know, so do I. But Mother, of course, wants me back home. You can come to visit me tomorrow, can't you?" She looked hopeful, and I was a little shocked, if not pleased, by the request.

"Really?" I asked, making sure she wanted to spend more time with me. I don't know why she'd ask otherwise, but every moment I spent with her felt like a privilege and it still didn't feel like reality.

Britt nodded. "Of course. My house is so boring without you now that I know what fun it can be when you are there," she explained, sighing heavily as she finished. At least we were on the same page in some respects. I suspected that my… that my bed would feel empty tonight.

"Well, I hope so. Depends on whether or not I can sneak myself out of the house before my Great Aunt Helga comes over. I really don't want to see her. I think she hates me." I cringed at the thought of all two hundred pounds of her making its way up the staircase, or for that matter, not being able to do so. Sometimes I doubted that we were related.

"Impossible," she said firmly.

"Oh, entirely possible," I laughed, imagining Helga's face when she saw the muddy hem of my dress and my wet boots from running in the fields. I could practically see her steaming, telling my Mama what a wild young woman I was. If only she knew.

After a while, we grew quiet again. It was only then that we both realised that she was supposed to be leaving and that the carriage, and probably my mother, was still waiting down in the driveway.

"Tomorrow's not a long time away, is it?" she said, trying to make her departure sound better. I wasn't convinced.

"No, it's not. And you'd better not keep everyone waiting any longer." I stood from the bed and walked over to the door, expecting her to follow me out. Before I could turn the handle though, she'd spun me back around and engulfed me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, wondering how anyone could naturally smell of vanilla. My heart sped up as she wrapped herself around my smaller form, and I decided that there was nothing I liked more than her hugs. Or perhaps just her embrace in general, whenever or wherever it may be. It was comfortable in all the best ways.

"I'll miss you, San," she whispered.

I smiled and whispered back, "I'll miss you too Britt." She pulled away and grabbed her things, and we finally made our way downstairs again. My mother was exasperated, asking what had taken so long. I told her that Brittany couldn't find her things. She looked sceptical, but seemed to accept it. Brittany was ushered out the door by my mothers fussing hands, and I looked on apologetically and rolled my eyes. She hid a smirk as she stepped into the coach, waving a last goodbye. I waved back until I could no longer see the black carriage rolling down the driveway. I went back inside, fielding my mother's few questions and her inquisitions into how I was feeling and just wanting to get back to my room.

"Santana, dear, you should write her a letter. A proper thank you for what she did for you. It was very generous of her, considering it was you she had to stay with," she laughed at her _joke_ and patted me on the arm. "I'm just poking fun, my girl. Now, go on and write her a nice formal letter. I'm sure she'll appreciate it." I knew for a fact that she wouldn't mind if I didn't, and I was certain that nothing like that would even have crossed Brittany's mind. But I would have to do it, simply to appease Mama.

"Yes, Mama, I'll go do that now," I mumbled, wondering what I was supposed to write. I didn't feel like I was supposed to write a stiff, formal thank you to her. I hauled myself up the stairs, already feeling the emptiness of the space beside me, the one _she_ had occupied all day. The pain in my neck, my head, and my whole body had returned.

I went to the writing desk by the far wall, near the window, and pulled out a piece of paper, a pen and ink. I began as formally as Mama would have wanted me to.

_Dear Lady Pierce,_

It already seemed _too_ formal, and using her title made me feel detached, somehow. Like I wasn't speaking to a friend any more. I scratched out the word 'Lady Pierce', replacing it with Brittany, and moved on. I supposed I would just rewrite it after I was done.

_Dear __Lady Pierce__ Brittany,_

_I wanted to thank you for everything you did for me. I know you said that you chose to, but I still wanted to thank you properly, and so did Mama. _

My letters flowed smoothly across the page, the ink drying fairly quickly so I didn't smudge it. I let my hand go and it kept writing.

_You were generous to stay with me when I needed it. In fact, I don't think I'll ever not need your company._

I didn't know where I was going with the letter, but my pen moved seemingly without my instruction. My writing became less perfect, and I continued without giving any forethought to what I was saying.

_I don't suppose you knew how much it meant to me that you were next to me, even though I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to tell you as much as I could. I wish I could have told you more. Right now, I'm missing you. I'm missing looking into your beautiful eyes that are bluer than the sky outside my window. I'm missing how you can make me feel happier than anyone I've known for my whole life. Whoever would have known, when I'd met you, how I'd feel right now?_

My hand didn't stop. It gushed everything onto the page, pulling every feeling out of me.

_I know that it's wrong, and I know that I'm wrong. But can you blame me? I have never, in my eighteen years, seen anyone more beautiful than you. Never. You took my breath away the very first time that I saw you. I'm only human. I've never wanted to know someone like I want to know you, either. But if you knew me, I'd lose you. I w—_

I slammed the pen down on the table, not letting myself write anything else. An irate spot of ink blemished the page where I had stopped. I looked at the words, poured across the page, accidentally having begun to bare my soul upon the paper. I hated every word of it, and it was terrifyingly true. This was not what I was supposed to be writing in the slightest. Pushing it aside, I angrily grabbed another clean piece of paper from the drawer and began to ink out the words I knew my mother would have wanted me to write.

_Dear Lady Pierce,_

_Thank you for staying with me and for your kindness. Your act of generosity was much appreciated by my family and myself, and will not be forgotten._

_My most sincere thanks,_

_Santana Lopez_

It was short, cold and it felt entirely wrong. I hated it and I knew that she would too. But what my mother wanted, my mother got. Besides, what harm, could a thank you letter do? I couldn't bring myself to make the letter any more personal. I grabbed an envelope and hastily slipped the sheet into it. I paid little attention as I wrote the name on the front and sealed it. Once I was done, I ran back downstairs, intending to place it on the letter tray to be taken in the post.

I hesitated though, longing to take a walk and get away from the house. Perhaps I could deliver the letter myself. If I walked to Chatsworth, slipped the letter under the door, and then left right away, I could have the stupid thing delivered today and I could get some fresh air. I decided that if I wasn't going to have any proper personality in the letter, I might as well put some into the delivery. Not that she would know, seeing as I would be gone before she could read it. For some reason I didn't really feel like the letter was from me, so maybe if I wasn't there, then she wouldn't either.

I called to Mama that I was going for a walk and left without waiting for a reply. I pulled on my comfortable shoes, which fortunately still looked nice, and a light coat, the pocket of which I slipped the letter into. I didn't bother to fix my hair, pieces of which had fallen around my face from being pulled back by clips. I felt normal again, and it was nice.

I stepped out into the light afternoon air. The sun still had a good few hours left in the sky, and I was glad for its warmth. I always relished the rare days that we had like this; it was quiet.

I walked not too slowly and not too quickly; I just walked. I was in no hurry to get there, but I didn't want to be too slow either. The grass was green on either side of the road, as were the trees. Walking was relaxing, and I tried to breathe out all of my troubles into the world. The world wouldn't take them though, as I couldn't get everything out of my mind, no matter how hard I tried.

I didn't know how long I'd been walking by the time I reached Chatsworth. To get to the house itself from the gates was an ordeal enough, but soon enough, the towering, intimidating doors were before me. With a last sigh and thoughts of my mother finding out that I never really 'officially' thanked the Duke's daughter for having stayed with us voluntarily, I slipped the letter under the door and turned away. I doubted she would even see the blasted thing before someone gave it to her anyway.

I began the walk back down their overly long driveway, kicking a stone here and there. Any breeze was softer than seemed possible, and the sun was sitting low in the sky. I could feel the last warmth leaving the air as the slightest first hints of evening peeked over the eastern horizon. The road was empty as it had been when I had been walking to Chatsworth, not a soul around save for the occasional rabbit or squirrel scurrying amongst the underbrush or through the evergreens.

After a while, I could have sworn I heard my name. I shook my head and told myself I was going insane. That was, if I wasn't already insane. I probably was. Another sound joined those around me not moments later, a rhythmic crunching as though someone were running on the road. I spun around, trying to find the source of the sound, only to see a figure moving towards me fast.

"Santana! Wait!" The shout was out of breath. It was Brittany.

_Fuck._ She had read my letter – worse, seen me – and had come to ask me why I had sent it. Then she would think I was being cold and that I didn't care. I should never have given her that Goddamned letter. My pulse quickened and I prepared myself to just tell her that my Mama had insisted I write it. I'd tell her the truth.

So perhaps I wasn't insane, but instead I was a fool. I wasn't sure which was worse.

I looked down for a moment before plastering a faltering smile on my face and looking up again, not ready to face her. I was sure I was quite a mess.

She slowed down as she reached me, putting a hand on her chest but recovering quickly. I briefly wondered if she had run all the way here. I suspected that she had.

"San," she called as she got closer. I shifted my weight from foot to foot until she was mere feet away. I finally looked up at her face, and—

_She's been crying. Well, maybe this isn't about the letter. All I did was say thank you. _I was scared, because I didn't know what to do. I could see fresh tears welling up in her eyes and I stepped closer, wanting to comfort her somehow. I had no idea what I was supposed to do. Her emotions were indecipherable and I lamented my lack of mindreading skills more than ever.

"Britt, what's—"

"Why did you give me this?" She asked as she held up the envelope, her eyes soft yet guarded. I was so confused as to how my mother's stupid idea of a thank you had created this situation. Maybe she had thought it meant that I didn't want to be her friend or some other mad thing like that. I tried to get what I could from her expression, but I came up empty handed.

"Um, God, Britt… Mama told me I had to, but I wouldn't have if I r—" I didn't get to finish before she cut me off again.

"You expect me to believe that this was your mother's idea?" She raised an eyebrow above a watery eye. The more I looked at her, the less sad she seemed. I was so lost.

"Well, yes, seeing as it's the truth," I replied somewhat desperately. Did she want me to tell her a believable lie? I didn't see any other way around her not accepting the truth. I didn't even see what the problem was with the letter that could have provoked this. My eyes darted back and forth between hers, frantically searching for the answers to all the questions swirling around in my head. I had no idea what I was supposed to say.

"Santana, is it the truth?" She asked, completely serious. She reached one hand for my arm, but dropped it. Nothing she was saying or doing made sense.

"Absolutely," I said weakly, crumbling under the weight of the tension.

"Every word?" She was watching me so carefully that I feared answering.

"Wait, Brittany, are you—" I stopped speaking when she reached into the envelope, hoping to get some sort of explanation before I said anything more.

She slipped a sheet out, holding it gingerly. I could see it was already slightly crumpled, but most importantly, I could see that there was far too much scrawl on it for it to be the letter I had sent her.

Or the one I thought I had sent her.

My hand came up to cover my mouth as my world slowed to a halt. I _wouldn't_ believe it. It wasn't possible. My eyes widened, brimming with unshed tears of shock and fear. There was nothing that could possibly ever have been more terrifying for me than this moment. I wanted to pinch myself and wake up from this horrible nightmare that I had fallen into. Perhaps I had fallen asleep when she left and now I was dreaming. I hoped to God that it was nothing more.

I knew it wasn't though. Everything was glaringly real, and I felt things crashing down on me. I had stashed them so clumsily that now, when the door was opened, there was no stopping the cascade of foolish thoughts and decisions.

I shook my head slowly, still staring straight at the piece of paper. I saw the corner of another peeking out from the envelope… the letter I had meant to send her. How could I have let this happen? I back away a little, wanting to run and never come back. I should have done that years ago.

My voice was watery when I tried to speak, tried in vain to fix this. I knew that nothing I could say or do would ever change this though. She _knew_. "Britt, I don't – God, uh…" I felt the first of my tears slip down my cheek. "I didn't mean – I'm so sorry, Brittany." I back away even further, intending on getting out of there. I was a coward, and I knew it, but there was no way I could look her in the eyes now. I was ashamed of myself.

Brittany tried to get my attention back. "Santana!" She was on the verge of yelling because I wouldn't look at her, moving further away until I was sure I could run. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly, seeing as if I looked at her expression, I knew I wouldn't be able to bear the hatred I would see there. "Santana, look at me."

I turned away from her and my feet began to move, taking me away from the mess I had created. Before I got more than a few feet, her hand was on my arm and I stopped. I didn't know what she wanted from me. What more was there to say? She probably wanted to tell me what she thought of me now. But I couldn't imagine her ever telling me anything even remotely mean, so I just looked away, straight ahead, and waited for whatever was coming. I could feel the hand she had on my arm like it was a weight, despite how she had loosened her hold and stepped in front of me.

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but I couldn't because no sooner than I had, she had captured my lips with her own. My heart stopped beating in my chest and every piece of me was frozen then set alight. I could feel the beautiful pressure of her mouth pressed to mine, barely moving yet so alive.

She was kissing me. _I was kissing her_.

My mind went completely blank, because even if I had known what to think, I couldn't have thought it. Nothing mattered but how close she was and her impossible softness, the way she came closer instead of pulling away. I was dizzy, out of breath, and so confused, but I didn't care. One of her arms came to wrap around my waist and her other hand to gently hold my face to hers. I never wanted it to end. It was nothing like I had imagined, because I could never have imagined anything to feel like this. The salty liquid of my tears, and probably hers too, mingled in with the kiss.

It was the most tender and gentle of touches, yet still somehow desperate and fast. Every part of me was poured into it, and I thought I could feel every part of her, too. One of my hands wound its way up to the back of her neck; I was unable to hold her close enough. Any distance between us was too far.

When she broke the kiss, it felt like a lifetime before any coherent thoughts entered my mind again. Our eyes stayed closed, our foreheads resting against one another. I was scared to move, to break the fragile magic of the moment. By the time she finally spoke, she sounded as breathless as I felt.

"Don't _ever_ apologise for the truth." I had yet to open my eyes and look at her, but I didn't need to. I was so close that I could feel her heart beneath my palm, which had moved to rest above her breast. We were breathing the same air, connected so wholly that I didn't think I'd ever be able to break away from her without breaking something.

"I don't understand," I whispered honestly. Standing there though, locked in her embrace in the middle of the road as the sun set, I didn't think I needed to.

"Neither do I, Santana," Brittany laughed quietly as her thumb stroked my cheek, ridding them of the last of my tears. I let out a breath, my head spinning and my whole body humming. Her sweet taste lingered on my lips.

"Britt… but you can't." I knew that she knew what I was talking about. I wasn't talking about understanding things.

She shook her head against mine. "And you can, then? Santana, it doesn't matter, because we _are_." I smiled at that, finally opening my eyes to look up at her. She was watching me, waiting for me. I searched her eyes for what seemed like the thousandth time, hoping that the answers might have appeared there while I wasn't looking.

"Are we?" I asked in disbelief, the unfathomable and impossible having being placed right in front of me without any explanation. I was scared to take it.

"Aren't we?" She countered. She placed another soft kiss on my lips, slower and less tear-filled than the last. I didn't think I would ever get used to the feeling that shot through my body, and I definitely wouldn't get tired of it. It was energy of a kind I hadn't known existed; now that I did, it felt as though it was the energy keeping me alive, keeping my heart beating and my lungs breathing.

"I never meant to send you that piece of paper. Mama made me write the one I was supposed to send. I'm not sure how sorry I am now though." I admitted shakily.

"As I said, never be sorry for the truth. How can anyone know anything real if people just say fake things all the time? I can't read minds, Santana." Brittany paused for a second, thoughtful. "I suspect Lord Tubbington can though." She was completely serious.

I let out a little chuckle at that but it was short lived. My breath caught in my throat as I looked up at her and the light was so perfect, hitting her skin so it glowed in the fading evening and shone in her eyes.

My voice wasn't more than a whisper. "You're so beautiful," I told her, sheer admiration colouring my words. My cheeks flushed a little, but I kept my eyes locked on hers, refusing to let my emotional cowardice take over. I wasted no time waiting for her to respond, simply capturing her lips in another kiss. If I could have held her any closer, I would have; at that moment, it seemed physically impossible. She kissed me back with fervour, as if in my wildest dream.

I hated the reality of the situation as much as I was thankful for it. We couldn't stay on the road holding each other forever. I didn't even know if I was supposed to have left the house, let alone come back late. Not that I would ever, not in a million years, tell my mother what had kept me. I didn't think I'd be able to explain it anyway, to anyone. I couldn't explain it to myself, or to Brittany.

"I have to go, Britt," I said, sadness filling my voice. I watched as her eyes lost the sparkle they'd had a moment before and immediately regretted reminding us of the real world. I knew I was right, however. "And so do you. Mama will be wondering where I am. I'm sure your family will be no different." There was nothing I wanted less that to leave her, to go back to the solitary confinement that was my room.

"Promise you'll meet me tomorrow. By the lake; don't come to the house," she breathed against my cheek. I nodded softly, so completely uncertain of anything except that I had to see her. I had no idea what any of this meant.

"Tomorrow," I repeated. I gave her one last sweet kiss before we let each other go. My heart ached for her already, and I could feel the chilled evening air around me, which her warmth had been warding off. We stood, just looking at one another for what could have been eternity but was really only a few seconds. I lifted my hand to hold hers, squeezing it gently then letting go. I was the first to turn away, beginning down the road that would take me back home. I decided that I didn't really know what the definition of _home_ was anymore; for as long as I could remember, it had been where my family was, at Marchess. Now I wasn't so sure.

I turned to look back after a short way, and she was still standing there watching me. I gave a small wave which she returned before she too began to walk home, only it was in the opposite direction to mine. Now that Brittany was gone, the hazy fog she induced in my head cleared a little and I was left reeling from our encounter. Did this mean that she felt the same way? I couldn't say there was any other explanation. I supposed that because I had resigned myself to the futile, unrequited state of my affections that I was shocked beyond measure by what had happened. I lifted a finger to touch my lips, tracing them lightly. It had really happened. I could still feel the ghost of her touch all over me, haunting me but in a way that made me wish it were real – real _again_.

The sun was almost gone by the time I made it back to the house. My mother hadn't heard me call out to her before I left after all, and had thus been worrying for the hours I had been gone. I waved her off and told her that I was old enough to look after myself and that she needed to get her nose out of my business. I gave her a look, daring her to bring up the events of the last few days, but she didn't. She frowned at me but let it go, for once in my life.

"Dinner will be ready in half an hour. Go wash up and be ready to eat by half past seven," was the last thing she said to me before she disappeared back into her lounge.

The more time I spent alone, the more I thought, and the more I felt that fear returning. But this time, the thing was real. It wasn't just a 'what if' anymore. Something was different, and I couldn't go back to the way things were. _We_ couldn't.

I was relieved when dinner was quiet, at least for me. There was small talk between the boys and sometimes Mama, but I didn't have to say anything much. I left the table before anyone else, excusing myself and explaining that I was tired.

Not long after I was back in my room, there was a tentative knock on the door. I sighed, not wanting company, but called out for whoever it was to open the door.

Peter stepped into the room, an apologetic smile on his face. He didn't say anything, simply coming over to sit by me on the bed. He put his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder. There had never been a time when he couldn't comfort me, ever since we were children. We didn't even need words to let each other know that we were there; we had an understanding. I loved Peter, because he always knew exactly what to say and what not to say.

"I'm going for a ride tomorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to come," he said after a while. I smiled, because that's what we would always do when we needed to get away. I hadn't been riding in a couple of weeks, but I knew that Papa had had one of the stable hands ride my horse for me when I didn't. I missed it a bit, but I had to shake my head against Peter's shoulder.

"I can't tomorrow, I'm—"

"Going to see Lady Pierce," he sighed. My eyes widened a little. "I know. I don't think I've ever seen two people become such good friends so quickly," he said. He sounded a little tired. He sounded like I felt.

"Another time, Pete," I promised, lifting my head from his shoulder and giving him a peck on the cheek. He stood up, heading to the door. He looked back at me before he left with a small smile.

"Look after yourself, Tana," he said and disappeared down the hallway. I got up to close the door after him, grabbed my book and lay down on my bed. I opened it to a random page, paying no attention to it whatsoever, because my thoughts were far away, wherever _she_ was. I wondered if she was thinking about me too.

* * *

_**Author's Note**__: I'm leaving for Vietnam and Cambodia next Wednesday night (6 of Dec 2012). I'll only be there for three weeks, but I won't be able to write at all while I'm there. Love you guys :)_

_Edit: New chapter coming soon! I got quite sick when I came back. I brought it home with me :(_


	10. Regardless

_**Author's Note: **__Just in case you forgot what happened last time, they kissed (finally). For those who care, which is probably no one, my trip was amazing. Asia is rough though, I'll say that. Last couple of weeks of summer for me, so I'll try to be writing a couple more chapters to post before my holidays are over. Enjoy the chapter, guys._

* * *

When I blinked my eyes open groggily, it was dark. I supposed I had fallen asleep while I was reading, my eyes tired and my heart even more so. The ache in my muscles was fading a little, but that was perhaps because I had dozed off in such an uncomfortable position as to put my legs to sleep. An awful prickling sensation splintered within them now as they awoke, relentless even against the vigorous rubbing I was giving them. It subsided soon enough though, leaving my toes to wiggle freely and my body to relax against the mountain of cushions that I swore grew by the day.

Activity requiring mental power had perhaps not been the best of ideas, as I couldn't think straight anymore, strained as I felt. The book I had picked up had not been of the fiction kind, but I had _contented_ myself with reading about physical sciences in order to distract my spinning thoughts.

My cheeks heated as I remembered mere hours earlier. I could feel the crimson blush creeping up my face at the thought of the kisses I had shared with Brittany. I raised my fingers to my lips for what seemed the thousandth time that evening, convinced that I could still lick her taste from them and feel her own lips against mine.

Sitting there, I finally let things sink in properly. _Holy fucking mother of—_

I had kissed Brittany.

More correctly, she had kissed me first. My mind tried to twist itself around the absolute improbability of the entire situation, only ending up tangled in its own web of wishes and desires, dreams and daydreams. I had lost count of the number of times I'd thought about how I would kiss her, perfect and slow and without tears. I would have been the one brave enough to lean forward first and steal her breath with my searching lips. I was to be the one who wrapped my arms around her strongly, surely. There was to have been no hesitance in my motions.

Instead, my fantasies had been upturned, ripped out by my fear and insecurities. And in their place had been planted the rarest and most unlikely of seeds. Brittany had planted a seed of _hope_.

I truly, honestly had given up. I had never even dared to expect anything to be more than my fanciful notions, knowing as I did the sore disappointment that came with entertaining such impossible imaginings.

Now, I wasn't so sure – of anything, really. Well, anything save for the fact that the next time I saw Brittany, my heart would most likely overwork itself into such a frenzy that I would simply collapse, possibly dead. Yes, I was definitely certain of that.

That was to be so soon. I didn't, once again, know exactly what the time was. It was late, but how late I couldn't say. I made a mental note to see to it that I was provided a new clock. I couldn't stand not knowing what the hour was when I awoke or when I went to sleep. How many hours had I spent, curled up with a heavy volume lying upon my chest and letting the cold sink into my limbs? Long enough, I thought.

I was still clad in my dress from earlier seeing as I had not had the chance, what with my untimely nap, to change into more comfortable clothes. I wondered how much trouble I would get in for preparing myself a midnight bath. Ultimately, I decided that however much trouble I would get in, it would not nearly outweigh the worth of refreshing water over my whole body.

I got up quietly, opening my door and sneaking down the hallway. There was really no reason, seeing as my family were all undoubtedly resting in the other wing of the house. The room containing the tub was a lot larger than it needed to be, the chill air permeating its entirety. Without having been stoked regularly, the fire over which the pot to heat the water hung had dwindled considerably. Sighing, I fixed it.

What had to have been almost an hour later, the warm water of the bath surrounded me. It was my first proper wash since… since I had lain in the field, the remaining dirt lifting from my skin with a mite of scrubbing. I let nothing fill my thoughts as I tried to cleanse both my mind and my body. I was in my quiet place, a sorely missed rarity in the past weeks.

There was a sort of novelty in bathing alone, at midnight, as the house was slumbering. It was truly private.

I stayed in the bath long after the last of the bubbles had popped and the warmth had slipped from the water. I had slowly adjusted with it though, so I was unfeeling to the cool liquid except when I focused on the difference in temperature between the submerged and the unsubmerged parts of me. My fingers had wrinkled and my hair was dripping and clinging to me. The sky was still almost black, a few stars peeking out from behind the clouds that had shifted in with the early morning breeze.

I thought of the day ahead of me as I stepped out of the tub, splashing water everywhere but paying it no thought. That was, until I slipped slightly, catching myself on the edge of the bath so I didn't split my head open on the tiles. Considering my run of luck, I was likely to do something foolish mere hours before returning to see Brittany. I mopped up the mess to avoid another such blunder, my thoughts being dragged back to the woman whom I missed so much. I felt almost pathetic in my yearnings, but quickly dispelled the feeling in favour of the butterflies that filled my stomach at the mere remembrance of her arms around me.

So long as I had memories of her, I would be unable to be pulled back down, into the darkness of the world, for a long while. She was as bright as the damn sun, blindingly so. Unfortunately (or fortunately, I wasn't quite sure) I had stared a little too long and had been gloriously blinded. But she remained there, a spot on my vision as one gets from watching our star in the daytime, on everything else I saw. No matter how many times I blinked, she was still there.

Mumbling to myself, I pulled on the dress I'd the foresight to bring atop my thin petticoat. I didn't feel the cool of the air anymore, instead feeling warm. It was probably just relative.

I stumbled out the door, my foot catching on the threshold, and almost fell right on top of Morys. I scampered backwards, retreating into the doorway once more, as we looked at each other in shock. Neither of us had obviously expected the other's presence at whatever hour it was. My mouth opened to quickly forge a snide remark and an excuse for my late night (or perhaps early morning) bathing, but it dropped from my tongue as Morys spoke first.

"Santana, I'm sorry about… you know," he said, obviously uncomfortable. He had an almost sheepish, repentant look upon his annoyingly not-ugly features. I had always wished an unpleasant appearance upon Morys, but I guessed that there was nought to be done for things determined by blood. For all her ill heart, Mama was at least an attractive woman. My father was bestowed with strong but kind looks. _A family blessed with a pleasant outward appearance if nothing else, _I thought rather bitterly. I was maybe exaggerating a little, but I cared not. Seeing my least favoured brother had brought my spirits down a step.

"Quiet your tongue, I've enough apologies and sentiments of regret to last me a thousand lifetimes," I snapped. "I don't want yours as well, Morys." I was being irrationally unkind, but I was on edge. I felt guilty and wary having been caught at a time when my thoughts contained nothing but dreams of Brittany's embrace. I somehow felt that he could see them written upon my face, that he could see my sins.

I stopped myself at that, not wanting ever again to put that word to how I felt. There could be no sin in affection, not ever.

All the same, I didn't feel it right to be thinking things like that when others were around. I was completely ridiculous but the fears slunk around me, threatening regardless. Fears of what exactly, I had yet to decipher.

I flicked my attention back to my brother as he began to speak again. "Very well, Santana. I merely wanted to give you my well wishes, but seeing as you do not want them I shall have to settle with reminding you that our Great Aunt Helga is to pay us a visit. You'll be expected to grace us with your presence, of course." I could almost hear the snicker in his words.

I stood, unmoving for a moment, cursing in my head. How could things have taken such a dramatic turn for the worse? Any semblance of calm I had managed to attain during my bath quickly slipped from my mind and body as I fumed silently.

"Well… what the hell are you doing up anyway?" I spluttered heatedly, deflecting attention from the previous topic.

He quirked a thick eyebrow at me, cold brown eyes glinting in the dim, flickering light of the hallway lamps. "I could ask the same of you." His hardened smirk incensed me to no end.

"Bathing," I replied shortly but honestly.

"Business," was his quick counter. We stood, staring at one another in annoyance for another few seconds before he turned to make his way down the hall to the study. He called back over his shoulder, a slimy expression on his face, "oh, and Abuela's coming too. Hope to see you on your best behaviour, Santana. Have a lovely morning, _sweet sister_." I kicked the doorframe with my bare foot, ignoring the splintering pain shot up my leg at the action. His back retreated into the study and I made my way back to my room. So much for the privacy of midnight bathing.

Perhaps it had been a tad closer to dawn than I'd first thought. Either that or Morys was plagued with nightmares of his own depravity, so much so that he couldn't bear to sleep in the presence of his own stone heart. I liked the latter scenario much better.

I would have to leave even earlier than I had planned in order to get away. I headed back to my room, wet towel in hand and a scowl on my face. Tying my hair in a neat but hastily fastened bun, I fixed it with my favourite floral barrette and applied the briefest spray of perfume to my wrists and my breastbone. There was a wet patch on my back from where my wet hair had lain and the fabric was cold against my now warmed skin.

I was having a battle with myself, trying to decide whether it would be wiser to stay here, at least for a while, to avoid the severe reprimand I was sure to receive if I were gone, or if I would throw caution to the wind and go to Chatsworth regardless. After dwelling on it for a moment, I came to the only conclusion I would have come to no matter how long I thought on it. I had never truly been considering staying.

I hurried over to my writing desk, grabbing out a pen and paper before scribbling down a not to let people know that I had left and had not in fact been abducted in the wee hours. As much trouble as it would get me in, I really didn't want to see Aunt Helga, and I didn't think I could face Abuela quite now. She was a woman in whom the utmost fear of God was instilled, and for that matter fear of society in general. She was the most proper woman I knew. She was also someone to whom I owed a great deal of my manners. Well, those that I had.

I supposed I had come to love her like a second mother as a child, but we grew apart as she visited less and less often. Now, it was only times like these that I had the chance to see her, and this time I didn't want it. I couldn't look her in the eye without thinking I'd somehow done wrong by my family, and certainly by her.

But I don't think I could ever let myself believe that I had wronged _myself_. I would never let myself believe that, no matter how much the coward in me wanted to, and I would never let Brittany believe that. Somehow I didn't think she would though.

Grabbing the hastily scrawled note and my coat, I went downstairs in the growing dawn light and placed what was sure to be my own death sentence on the table where I knew someone would see it sooner or later. Approaching the cloakroom, I heard shuffling from beyond the door and wondered who in their right mind would be going out at this hour. Well, save for myself. Curiously, I peeked around the door and was more than surprised to see my father pulling on a thick coat, his boots and a scarf. The air was colder down here than it was upstairs, a better reflection of the chill that had settled outside overnight.

I cleared my throat and set a questioning look on my face as he turned at the sound of my voice. His eyebrows shot up and he looked like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have. Quickly he was composed again and there was a smile on his face.

"Santana?" Was all he said in question.

I shrugged and pursed my lips, looking for any excuse I could find. "Just ah- I was just going to go feed the horses," I tried rather lamely, seeing as I never really did that. We had a stable hand for a reason.

Apparently my father was privy to that information as well. "Santana, don't even try. Where were you intending to go so early, my dear?" His glare turned playfully sceptical as I tried to sidestep the interrogation.

"Well, where were _you_ going to go?" My feeble attempt at avoidance did not go unnoticed, but he humoured me nonetheless.

"I was going to say the stables too, but we both know that's not true. I was heading to town. But now you owe me and explanation, young lady."

I coughed a little. "Funny that. I was actually planning on going to the village as well," I said, strained. If he picked up on it, he didn't mention it.

"Well, we can go together then. I'm sure it'll be a lovely morning to walk." I wasn't quite sure if he really meant to be going to the village, but there was no turning back now for either of us.

The walk was actually quite nice, if not a little tense considering I suspected both of us had been lying about our destinations. Once we reached the village, though, I decided it couldn't hurt to find a spot of breakfast. I had already decided that I wouldn't be going back home. I broke away from my father and managed to get a croissant from the baker's son for little more than a smile before heading back down the road, except this time I went right by my house and on to the way to Chatsworth. The walk took me longer than it had yesterday, considering my relaxed pace. In fact, I had somehow managed to forget everything important about the day and about life, really. The deepest thought that had entered my mind in the past half hour had been that the pea-to-fork ratio was in fact a very complicated principle, and depended on both the size of the fork and the peas.

Evidently I had stopped thinking like an intelligent being the moment I began walking. When I reached the gate of Chatsworth, however, I stopped. I might have even had a heart attack with the amount of nervous energy flowing through me in that moment. I didn't think I'd felt like this since the last time my mother decided to look through my bookshelf and almost discovered that romance novel Quinn had loaned to me. This was perhaps even worse than that.

I had absolutely no idea what I had been intending to do when I saw Brittany. What does one say in a situation like this? How does a woman greet the woman she kissed mere hours ago? _Sweet baby Jesus._

My heart was racing a mile a minute and I hadn't even stepped through the gate yet. I placed my hand on the stone brick pillar of the sweeping entrance and tried to be rational and calm about the whole thing. The longer I stood idly though, the more my nerves deteriorated.

I pulled myself up and walked purposefully through the gate; there was no chance I would let myself back out. Besides, my desire to see her far outweighed my fears – for the moment, anyway.

I didn't walk up the drive, instead wandering a little way off it yet still following its winding pathway to the house. The lake was not far from the gate, so I didn't have to walk for too long before I reached the water's edge. It was so quiet, the only sounds being the rustling of the ducks' feathers and the slight splashes they made as they dipped beneath the surface in search of food. I wished my life were that simple, but noted mentally that perhaps becoming a duck wasn't on the top of my list of lifetime goals. I didn't even know what was, to be honest, but I'd a few ideas. Top of my list for things to accomplish at this moment however was to find Brittany.

I wondered if she was even out of bed yet, let alone down here at the lake. Now as I thought about seeing her, my nerves began to turn into an uncontainable excitement. I just wanted to kiss her again.

But what if she didn't want to kiss me, what then? What if the hours spent apart had given her time to discover that it had in fact been a mistake and we were never to see each other again? I was overthinking this, definitely.

Lost in thought, I was completely oblivious to the presence behind me, that was until a hand slipped into my own and I felt a familiar warmth move beside me. I closed my eyes a moment and smiled. I'd known that whatever she did, it would erase everything completely from my spinning head save for one thing. When I opened my eyes, I turned my head to look at her.

"Good morning," she said. It was the simplest and most mundane thing that could possibly have been said in that moment, but it was everything I needed her to say. Those two words doused the fire of fear that had been struck in my heart and replaced it as usual with that strange feeling of hope, though I didn't care what I was hoping for.

Everything was going to be all right.

We looked at one another a moment longer before turning our attention to the lake. I glanced briefly down at where our hands were joined, a rush of admiration filling me at how strong she felt in every way. I hated to admit that I don't think I could have done that so effortlessly on my own the way she had. Unconsciously, I gripped her hand a fraction tighter.

Eventually the cold began to seep in through my layers and I shivered. I tried to pass it off as something intentional, but there was no way that was ever going to have worked. She just laughed lightly and tugged on my hand.

"Come with me." She began leading me across the field, not letting go of my hand the whole way. Once the house came into view, I became slightly more uncomfortable. "Everyone who cares is still asleep," she said and I wondered how on earth she knew what I was thinking. That could be dangerous for me if I didn't start to reign in some of my wilder thoughts, though she insisted that she was not in fact able to read minds.

"Where are we going?" I asked as my curiosity got the better of me. Brittany pointed a little was up the hill where a small cottage was just becoming visible.

"Up there." She was being rather cryptic, but I let her lead me the rest of the way. It was an old stone cottage, probably only one room inside. It looked rather worse for wear, the mortar eroding and the wood of the window frames rotting. I gave her a questioning look but she just opened the old door, which creaked and groaned under the apparent stress.

"Britt?" She still hadn't answered my questions really, but now she turned to me to explain.

"It used to be the gardener's cottage a really long time ago. A really long time ago, as you can probably see. I wasn't even born when a new one was built so this one stopped being used. I think people forgot to take it down then just forgot about it all together. I come here sometimes. I used to play house in here when I was a kid." Brittany led me through the doorway and into the small room the building housed. It was cosy, if not a little run down. There was a hearth at the far end and a rocking chair by what looks like it had once been a bed. Whatever was left now was virtually unusable.

Brittany let go of my hand and moved down to the end of the cottage with the hearth, setting about lighting the pieces of wood in the fire. "Whenever I come here I like to light this, make it feel more like home. I like to imagine how nice and warm and comfortable this place would have been when someone was living here. I thought it rather cute," she said, a nostalgic happiness touching her voice. I could see why she would have liked it here. It _was_ a wonderful place to imagine.

"So does anyone else come here?" I asked, moving casually around the cramped space. I couldn't imagine they did, but it wouldn't hurt to ask. Brittany shook her head as she moved back from the slowly catching fire.

"No," she said, "just me, as far as I know. I don't think anyone else would want to. It's not exactly the nicest place." I nodded in agreement, but I had decided that I liked the place.

"It's nice," I said softly. "And warmer," I added, glad to be at least somewhat sheltered from the temperature outside. There hadn't been a morn quite so cool as this in a while. I could feel the chilled fingers of Autumn closing around us tighter than in the past couple of months, despite the rain. The trees were even beginning to turn golden save for the few evergreens that were dotted through the sparse woods.

I stood by the small window, watching a tiny hare racing over the hill. I wondered what had him in such a hurry, or perhaps he just liked to move that fast regularly. Perhaps he was fleeing to escape an unseen foe. His path led my eyes up to the house, the top of which was just visible from my vantage point. I bristled at the reality of the situation for only a moment before Brittany's warm body was pressed against mine and her arms circled around my waist, clasping at my front, resting just beneath my chest. My heart was kicked into action as she pressed the lightest of kisses to the nape of my neck and then to the top of my shoulder.

She hugged me closer to her, resting her chin on my shoulder and sighing.

"I did that once before, you know," she said, so softly it was almost a whisper but I heard it anyway because her mouth was so close to my ear. I didn't dare take any guesses as to what she meant, and when I didn't say anything she ventured on.

"You were so close. It was too hard not to. You were asleep." All my nerves fired up at the memory.

"I thought I must have been," I said just as quietly. She froze as she caught on to what I had said, but quickly relaxed and placed another kiss just behind my ear. I didn't dare breathe lest I shatter the moment which felt so fragile yet so perfect. She smiled against my skin and lingered a moment. I felt myself tensing up but in a good way that I couldn't explain.

She noticed, loosening her grip a little as if to move away. I placed my hands on top of hers before she could let go and she moved back in.

"Talk to me, Santana," she said, an almost pleading quality to her voice. I could hear her worry and my own matched it at the sound. I was still quiet for a moment, just wanting to feel her before I spoke. I had been wrong about letting go of all my fears. Brittany had merely hidden them, but now she had unknowingly uncovered them again. I hated myself for it.

"It's… I'm worried Britt. I'm so scared." I took a deep breath. Admitting weakness was a weakness in itself. At my admission her arms pulled me ever closer.

"I know. I am too," she breathed. "I won't lie, San. But being scared doesn't stop men from going to war or that explorer man sailing to America or baby birds flying out of their nests." I smiled at her analogies, as strange but effective as ever. "I don't want us to be scared of each other or anyone else."

I wanted to cry, but I didn't. I wouldn't be afraid of her, not ever. I wished I could tell myself the things she told me, make myself believe them as she so obviously did. I wanted to forget all the reasons why we shouldn't do this and remember all the reasons why we should; there were definitely more of the latter.

I turned around in her embrace and wrapped my arms around her neck, kissing her soundly. Everything was right again as soon as she kissed me back. Breaking away, I looked up at her eyes which remained closed.

"I don't know what this is, Britt. I… should I?" More even than I expected, my voice barely betrayed the heat coursing through my veins. I'm sure she could see it in my cheeks though. She pressed her lips to my forehead gently before looking back down at me.

"I told you yesterday, I don't care. I just want whatever it is never to stop." Her words stopped my heart once again. "You have no idea how long I waited for it to start."

"If it's as long as I waited then I must profess that we're both fools," I laughed, hiding my face in her neck and playing with a piece of her hair that had fallen loose. When she laughed, I could feel it and I didn't think I'd ever felt anything happier. I'd certainly never _heard_ anything happier.

I certainly wasn't cold anymore; she was better than any fire. I decided to chance a question. "Did you- did you feel something…" I began, but I lost heart before I could ask what I had been going to ask.

Brittany pulled my chin up to better see my face, her expression willing me to go on. I shook my head.

"It's silly." I shook my head.

"I want to hear it, San. I want to hear everything you have to say," she encouraged.

I began again. "Did you feel something, that first night at the ball?" I asked tentatively. She immediately raised her eyebrows in a look of surprise. I sucked my head and tried to backtrack. "I know, I told you it was silly. Just forg-"

"I think I did," she answered before I could tell her to forget I had ever said anything. "I don't know if I believe in love at first sight, but I know that I thought you were the prettiest woman I'd ever seen."

I looked up again, this time speechless. I quite literally could form no words in response. I just stared at her in disbelief. She seemed to be studying my expression as I stood there, paralysed before her. She probably thought me simple for all the reaction she was getting.

It was such a sweet sentiment yet my incapable mind had been stuck on one small word.

Love.

_Fuck_. I hadn't dared put that word to anything about us thus far. If I'd been scared before, I was terrified now. Did I… did I love her? The thing was, there wasn't even a moment's hesitation before I knew the answer. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.

I felt like the hugest weight had been lifted from my shoulders and there was no stopping the awed smile I was giving her. I had… well, I'd fallen in love.

I was in love with Brittany. So, so pathetically in love that I almost sickened myself. I'd always held a certain degree of scorn for those who claimed themselves in love. I'd named them liars, all of them. I absolutely refused to believe it was jealousy. But if they'd felt even a fraction of what I was feeling right now, there was every reason to be jealous.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I wanted to tell her. She deserved to know. But what if she didn't say it back? What if Brittany didn't love me the same way I loved her? I felt the irrational fear take over again, but I couldn't give her nothing.

"Thank you," I said, my voice filled with the same awe that I could still feel in my eyes. She didn't ask what for, just pressing her lips against mine in reply. I think she understood.

She deepened the kiss but kept it chaste, seemingly knowing my every need and fulfilling it. I would never get enough of how she tasted. Sweet and comfortable and _perfect_. I was seriously questioning my capacity to leave her when the day was out.

At that moment, there was so much more to worry about but so much less I cared about. I knew we couldn't stay here, hidden away like this forever. She deserved more. So many things were imperfect, but she was the one things that I wasn't worried about. Brittany.

By the time she had to put more wood on the fire, I was certain that going back to Marchess would be no easy task.

"How long can you stay?" She asked from her place in front of the fire. I had seated myself in the old rocking chair that was still in a surprisingly comfortable condition. If there were spiders, I didn't dare look.

I smiled lazily, the warmth of the room and Brittany's presence sedating me rather effectively. "I never want to leave," I replied. I could see the corners of her mouth turn up at my answer.

She came and settled herself at my feet, her back resting against my legs and her head against my knees. I was content to sit here forever.

"I'd have you here for as long as you'd stay, but your family probably wouldn't," she said lightly. I sighed heavily.

"You know, I wasn't even supposed to come here today," I admitted. She bent her neck back at a funny angle to look up at me. "My Abuela and my aunt were to be calling. They only visit the countryside every so often, considering they're from town. London's, what, a few hours travel? A day?" I thought to myself. Perhaps. I didn't feel guilty about avoiding Helga, but I wished I didn't feel I had to avoid Abuela as well. "But there was never a chance that I wouldn't have come today, regardless." Brittany looked apologetic, like somehow it was her fault. "Britt, my aunt Helga is the last person I wanted to see today. I'll give you three guesses as to who the first was." I smirked at her and she placed her finger on her chin in faux-thoughtfulness.

"The King," she said seriously. I rolled my eyes at her but she just smiled back impishly. "Alright, alright. It was Lord Tubbington," she said as if giving in. Yet another thing that I… that I _loved_ about her – she was so much more fun than the rest of the serious world we lived in. People were all business and propriety when they grew up, but she was none of that and I supposed I envied it. "Don't laugh. I know you want to see him," she teased.

"He's a cat, Brittany," I pointed out. She didn't seem to think this changed anything.

"Don't let outward appearances fool you," she said wisely. "It's what's on the inside that counts." I watched her as she shifted against me.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to have a _good_ outward appearance," I countered. "It's a bonus, is it not?"

She grinned up at me again. "It certainly is," she agreed. The fluttering was back as soon as she looked at me like that.

We stayed sitting like that for another long while, exchanging the occasional comment or glance. I'd no idea what the time was. The sun had carved a long path across the sky from the times we saw it from behind the clouds. As time dragged on, our looks began to convey our displeasure with the approaching and unavoidable parting. After a while, Brittany stood and held out her hand for me to take.

"Come inside with me. It would not be so odd for you to simply drop by now. My family will never know any more than the fact that you called _this afternoon_. Even though you stayed all day," she said as if it was some mastermind plot. "There are clocks inside, and despite my philosophy that time doesn't really matter, it sort of does," she said, almost saddened by her own realisation for a second. I took her hand and stood, wanting to have a few last moments of privacy with her. Once we went inside, everything changed. Simply standing too close would not be an option.

I reached a hand to the back of her neck and stroked it lightly. "When can we do this again?" I asked, not wanting to hear the answer. Despite the relative ease with which I escaped today, it would probably not be so simple next time. In fact, my escape today was probably the reason I wouldn't get away so easily.

She kissed me gently before whispering that it would be as soon as it could. I had to content myself with that answer, because it was the best even I could have come up with.

With one last kiss that was verging on desperate, at least on my part, we linked ourselves only by our hands and made our way towards the house, that was until we reached full view from the windows at which point we reluctantly let go. She told me it was okay though because if our hearts had hands, they'd be holding each other's. I didn't quite know what to say to that so I settled on giving her that same smile I had given her earlier. The one that, now I came to think of it, probably looked utterly love-struck.

By the time we got inside, it was nearing three in the afternoon. It would be dark by six, but that didn't matter because my mother's temper would have been black hours ago. In fact, I was surprised she hadn't come looking for me. We ran into the Duchess as we walked to the lounge, but the conversation and explanation was short-lived and polite. She seemed a little out of sorts, but Brittany pulled me away to the lounge.

When she offered to walk me home, I told her that probably wasn't the best idea seeing as at least one member of my household was likely to be in some sort of Santana-patrol. Brittany looked regretful but agreed anyway. Before I left, she pulled me into the empty cloakroom and held me like she'd never get another chance. It almost felt that way, which was ridiculous and dramatic but felt so real. "I don't want you to leave," she said, and I nodded against her.

"Soon," I assured her, "I'll see you again soon." It was a lot to promise considering the situation, but I did anyway. I also promised myself that I'd keep that promise.

I wasn't sure how long I took to get back to Marchess, but the minute I stepped through the front door I felt my heart drop into my stomach. There, standing by the stairs, was my mother, my father standing not far behind her. Her arms were crossed and her mouth was set in a thin line.

"Had a nice day, Santana?" She asked, the ice in her tone sharp enough to sink ships. "I trust you were somewhere important."

"Very," I spluttered immediately, "very important place. I was uh… Madrid had to be ridden, Mama. I hadn't ridden her in a week." That was quite possibly the worst excuse I had ever come up with in my entire life.

"Ah, that horse that spent her day at the farrier. Right, I see. Must have a twin then. Funny that," she countered. _Fuck._ "When did you begin blowing off important family matters for your so-called friends, Santana? Did I not make it clear that you were to remain here for today in order to see_ your Abuela and my sister_? I thought you were better than that, Santana. I thought that perhaps you'd matured into the fine, polite family woman I raised you to be. Obviously I was mistaken."

"Mama-" I cried, trying to get a word in. I was sick of her tearing me down like this.

"No, Santana. You've had enough chances. This girl is distracting you, and you needn't be distracted during such a critical time in regard to your future." She said it with such a detached air that it made my hairs stand on end.

"Well if it's my future, why don't you let me decide how I want it to be?" I yelled, exasperated and exhausted from fighting so hard and so often for things I should never have had to fight for. She was having none of it.

"You shall remain in this house until further notice. No visitors shall be allowed unless I approve them. You shall see suitors until you are married. You're dismissed." She left then, retreating into the dining room. I didn't move. My back was against the door, and it was all the support my frozen body was getting. My legs had ceased to function hopefully only temporarily and I found myself incapable of comprehending anything Mama had said. Every word slipped slowly through my mind like poison, making my anger swell. I didn't cry, and I didn't let Papa, who was still standing by the stairs, see anything I was thinking on my face. He didn't say anything, once again.

I didn't expect him to. I sank down against the door, unwilling to go anywhere that required effort. I knew I hadn't been the model daughter recently, but perhaps this had been the last straw. I wouldn't change it for the world, though. Never in a million years would I trade in what Brittany gave me today. Any sliver of hope I had gained today had been crushed by the look on my mother's face. It was a loo of disgust, of disappointment and most of all, betrayal. I hated her for it.

I didn't cry once that evening. I didn't sleep either. Sometime, in the middle of the night as I was tucked into bed and lying stiffly and emptily, my door opened. I didn't care. A bloody murderer could have come in and I wouldn't have wanted to care. Look where caring had gotten me. No, I didn't want to think that. I felt myself soften as I thought of fires and blonde hair and pointless conversations. Whoever it was moved closer to my bed but I feigned sleep.

A large hand hovered over the edge of my quilts before picking them up and pulling them tighter around me. "Goodnight, sweetheart. I love you," came my father's quiet, gruff voice before he leaned down and laid a kiss against my forehead. The door to my room shut quietly and I was left to the silence again.

That was when I cried.

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_**Author's Note: **__There you have the latest instalment. Feel free to beat me up about stuff in a review. If you have any questions, want updates about the story and the direction it's heading or behind the scenes info, head on over to my new Tumblr (I switched blogs recently) at soliloquy-siege . tumblr __. com (remove spaces) - and d__rop me an ask!_


	11. Tomorrow

_Another chapter. Sorry for the wait; I severely underestimated the amount of work involved in both the new school year and this 10K word chapter. Enjoy, as usual, and if you have any questions, hit up my tumblr at soliloquy-siege . tumblr . com (no spaces). _

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I loved the fields behind the house most of all. They were the one place I could always count on to be left alone; my mother wouldn't be caught dead out here and my father and brothers were always too busy. I loved the silence that was only permeated by the sounds of the wind and the birds and the trees. I could think when I was out in the grass and not worry about being bothered by life. With my arms stretched behind me, supporting my tired body, my head was tilted back to watch the fluffy grey clouds wander across the darkening sky.

Lazy afternoons often found me out here, trying to wade through the newest murky sea of a situation I had put myself in. I could detach myself. Occasionally though, my thoughts drifted to cold hours spent alone, hidden in the grass, or stolen hours in broken cottages. My heart was so volatile and messy, sullied by its own lamentations and yearnings. I wished more than anything that I could step back into the past and try everything again.

I wished I could attempt, somehow, to mend the torn bond between my mother and I. There was nary a day when we had not fought, more so in the past months than any other time. I could feel each of us growing weary, constantly putting up a fight and needlessly defending against invisible enemies. The words we threw at one another may as well have been knives. The damage was done and we each had wounds that I didn't think even time could heal.

I would turn back the clock on myself, on the walls I'd built and the fortresses I'd hidden myself behind. I wished I were different – stronger. I kept telling myself that it would happen. I told myself that I'd grow and that I'd become the person I had always wanted to be. I wasn't entirely sure that was happening, or that it was ever going to.

The only thing in my whole world that I would never want to reverse was Brittany. Nothing could make me give up even a second of time I'd spent with her or a moment I'd spent watching her. The one thing I _wouldn't_ change was the one thing that I feared was going to.

There was a small and sudden movement at my feet, bringing my attention to the rustling grass. I squinted in a vain attempt to determine the nature of the intruder as a pair of soft brown ears, first one, then another, appeared from behind the green stalks. I smiled and reached forward slowly so as not to scare the tiny thing.

"Have you so many problems as I, little rabbit?" I asked, feeling a mite silly for talking to an animal. He looked at me and twitched his nose inquisitively. I had seen any number of small animals on these hills, but I don't think any were quite so adorable as this one and he didn't seem skittish so skittish as them. I tentatively reached to pat him and he cowered from my hand, which I quickly retracted.

"Don't worry, I just want to pet you," I mumbled, frowning. The rabbit still hadn't moved, however, simply remaining in the same position with his wary eyes glued to me. He seemed just as confused as I was about life. A kindred spirit.

Even in my head I sounded stupid, so I rolled my eyes at myself and reached forward, this time more carefully, and managed to gently stroke the top of his head. He didn't seem to mind, perhaps having discovered that I did not in fact intend to harm him after all. My smile returned as the fluffy creature moved a little closer, his curiosity piqued and his fur standing the tiniest bit on end.

"What's the bet I'm just as scared as you right now?" I asked him, watching as he moved in an odd hop-walk toward my hand. His tiny nose wriggled as he sniffed it and decided it would be safe to nibble on. "Hey, if you're hungry look elsewhere. Sorry, but I don't have any… lettuce? Carrots? I don't even know what you eat."

Every time I spoke, his head turned upward to watch me closely. Perhaps he understood me but was unfortunate enough to lack the speech facilities that would allow him to tell me to be quiet and deal with things myself. I dared to reach for him again, this time petting his back. He arched up into my hand and I figured he enjoyed it. Once I was certain he wasn't going to eat my fingers with his surprisingly sharp little teeth, I wrapped my hands around his soft body and pulled him into my arms. He squirmed for a moment before calming down and snuggling against my chest. I could feel his tiny heart beating frantically but I think it was supposed to do that anyway, or at least I hoped so. He was so warm and cuddly and somehow made me feel less alone out among the expanses of the fields around me.

A wind had picked up from the south and carried the cold of the seas, chilling me as I sat in nothing but my dress. As I shivered, so did my new friend, his furry coat bristling in the cool air. I hugged him closer, hoping that the rain wouldn't come until I was well and truly indoors. Stroking his head absentmindedly, I was glad for the company and internally groaned about how sad that fact really was.

"Rabbits don't really have many problems, do they?" I asked, more to myself than the soft bundle in my arms. "I wish I were a rabbit. Don't quote me on that," I said quickly, having decided that I would rather not be a rabbit but perhaps a cat. They seemed to be the most spoilt creatures, waited on hand and foot (or paw and other paw), and I envied their lack of care about everything. Being a rabbit would still be would be too much work in my opinion, but at least they lacked the complicated and emotionally-taxing relationships that humans had developed for some inexplicable reason.

I sighed, blowing a stray strand of hair out of my face. "You need a name," I said, looking down on the nameless animal. For some reason I felt the need to give him an identity other than 'rabbit'. Maybe I would feel lest moronic if I was talking to something with a name. "How about…" My words trialled off and I tapped my chin in thought. "...Crusoe. You seem like a fearless adventurer. Well, fearless of my hand, anyway," I said, petting between his ears where he seemed to like it. He looked at me with the same look he'd been giving me the whole time, and I couldn't really tell whether it meant he liked me or not. He did appear to be quite happy, however, so I left him where he was.

Sighing, I laid myself back on the grass, the rabbit tucked into a ball on my stomach. I spread my arms behind my head, extending my legs and looking up at the greying sky once again. "What am I going to do, Crusoe?" I asked as if he could understand me. Well, how did anyone know that he didn't? His beady little eyes didn't change, but his quick breaths and warm fur were comforting against my middle. Perhaps he wouldn't be so bad as a confidant, considering he couldn't tell anyone anything I said.

I breathed out and let go. "I'm in love." My heart swelled with the words. "With Brittany." I blushed as I said it aloud for the first time. It felt… nice. No, it felt better than nice. I felt suddenly warm all over at the thought of it, of her. It scared me, sure, but if there were anything in the world to be scared of I think I'd want it to be this. Knowing it felt incredible. Saying it was exhilarating, like I shouldn't have been but I was anyway. "So, so utterly in love, Crusoe. I sicken myself," I said half-heartedly, but the feeling of wonder didn't fade. "I miss her every second she's not here." I look down at him again, wondering how he could be so calm about all of this.

I began to wonder if perhaps I could bring Crusoe back to the house with me. If I tried, I could hide him from Mama. She definitely wouldn't approve of him, so the likelihood of actually keeping a pet was virtually non-existent. I didn't want to leave him here, though, not now that I had told him my deepest secret. He knew too much to be left to those prying for gossip.

I held onto him tightly as I stood, turning my back to the breeze and moving toward the house. Mama and the boys were out, so I'd have no trouble smuggling Crusoe in. The housekeeping staff had learned long ago not to question my actions, no matter how strange or unlawful they seemed. It was an understanding we'd had since I was a child and used to sneak into the barn and use the loft as a fort. Papa had always said that one day it'd come crashing down on me, the rotting wood weakened by decades of weather, and I'd have no one to blame but myself. The old thing had held up until I reached the age of eleven, at which point I fell through a particularly unsafe patch and into the hay below it. I'd still managed to blame it on the geese.

I passed the old barn as I made my way up the hill, brows furrowed in concentration as I tried not to drop Crusoe. He was wiggling a little, but I figured it was just impatience. I thought to grab a small bunch of grass for him to nibble on if I was to take him up to my bedroom. Reaching the front steps, I quickened my pace and hurried to the front porch. As my eyes trailed up from my feet, however, I noticed another figure standing by the large front door. I froze, caught for a moment, but I soon realised that I'd know that posture anywhere.

"Quinn? What're you doing here?" I asked as I tried to hide Crusoe in my arms. I didn't think I was having much success, so I angled myself away from her ever so slightly in an attempt to shield him from her view. She turned, startled, and gave me an odd look before rolling her eyes.

"Santana!" She sounded relieved. "I've been knocking for a minute straight. I was just about ready to leave," she said, exasperation colouring her tone. She looked pleased to see me nonetheless. "I came to see you, actually. I was beginning to think you'd disappeared. Not even a letter in rather a while."

I didn't move any closer, but an apologetic look crossed my face. "Sorry, I just… a lot of things have been happening recently." I sighed, deflating. I momentarily forgot the secrecy I was supposed to be maintaining regarding the rabbit in my hands, taking a step toward Quinn. She looked down to my arms, a look of shock on her delicate features. If her eyebrows went any higher, I was afraid they'd leave her face.

"What on _Earth_ is that?" She asked, astonished. I looked down sheepishly, cuddling a squirming Crusoe closer to myself as if to protect him from her judgement. "And why are you holding a bunch of grass?" She looked about as confused as possible, and I realised I must have looked rather a sight.

"Shh," I quickly shushed her, taking a furtive look around me to make certain that no one had heard. "His name is Crusoe, and he's a rabbit, Quinn. I'd have thought that you of all people would know _that_," I said sarcastically.

She shook her head at me. "When did you get a rabbit?" She was still trying to process the information, clearly.

"About ten minutes ago. Now would you like to come inside, or shall I leave you out here to be struck dumb for a while longer?" I moved toward the door, sick of standing in the chill breeze and eager to put down Crusoe. "Would you be so kind?" I prompted her, gesturing to the door and then down to my occupied arms.

She pushed the door open, brown still furrowed as she let me pass through then did so herself. Closing the door behind herself, she turned to me with one raised eyebrow. "So I leave you for more than a week, and you begin collecting rabbits and naming them after fictional explorers. Are you sure you're all right, Santana?" Her hands were on her hips, a picture of motherly reprimands.

I simply grinned at her. "Perfectly fine. Well, if you fail to count the restrictions on my freedom and my ever-shorter lifetime as a single woman. Other than that, life's just peachy." I began to head upstairs, slowly as I was unable to haul the hem of my dress up and was therefore prone to tripping. Quinn was quick to fall into step beside me, following me down the hall to my room. I quickly set Crusoe down on the floor and laid the grass down next to him. Luckily for me, he seemed satisfied and I could stand to talk to Quinn.

She was still giving me that incredulous look, and I gave her one back that said, 'what of it?'.

"So, Q, what brings you to my humble abode?" I asked, eyes still on the small bundle of munching fluff at our feet. I lay back onto the bed, sprawling out and letting my back stretch itself. Quinn sat herself down beside me and I turned my head to see if she was in fact going to answer me.

She took a deep breath before speaking. "I'm to be married," she said in a rush. "There, I said it. I cannot believe it myself, so I'll give you a moment." She continued, avoiding my gaze. My mouth hung open as though I were of inferior intelligence and my mind spun.

"Married?" I asked dumbly. She just nodded her head and folded her hands in her lap.

"He's a lovely young man. Plenty of money and a wonderful house where the both of us will be living." The way she spoke sounded so clinical and resigned that my heart ached for her. "His name's Sam. He made his money all on his own, you know," she said, obviously trying to convince herself.

"Married?" I said again. I had somehow envisioned the both of us staying unmarried and free forever. It was all very well to have marriage threatened, but now it was actually happening to Quinn? I'd subconsciously denied that this day would ever come. I'd not even guessed at it in in the past weeks. It sent a sudden jolt of fear through me – could my own unwilling betrothal be just as unexpected? I shuddered and turned my attention back to the blonde beside me. "You're not pulling my leg, are you?" She didn't even bother replying. "Well shit."

"For once I agree with you, Santana," she groaned.

"I'll admit, I never really believed that this would happen. Do you know what I mean?"

She nodded and lay back next to me. "I have no more than a month before the wedding. And what a wedding it's set to be, let me tell you." I wouldn't have expected any less from the Fabrays; they were some of the most traditional and extravagant people I had ever met. I hated her mother and I despised her father. "I wasn't quite sure what to do once it was arranged. How does one spend their last days as a relatively free woman?"

I raised my eyebrows at her, as if to dare her to do something reckless. But it was Quinn, after all, and there was no chance of that. The most reckless thing she could think to do was skip church. "Drink, party, disregard chores, and then drink a little more," I suggested. "The drinking will help you forget that you hate disregarding chores, but once you're married you'll never be free of them," I tried to explain my plan. She didn't look convinced.

She tried to turn the attention from herself and onto me. "Did not you mention earlier that your own days as an unmarried woman were limited? Care to elaborate?" Her deflection worked, as I suddenly tensed up.

"Mama is relentless. She will no doubt bring home suitor after suitor, and has sworn not to stop until I accept an offer." I cringed, that caged feeling creeping back up my body. "But I don't want to get married. I never have, and especially not now that I've som—"I stopped short, my words choking off as I realised what I had been about to say. Quinn looked at me quizzically before her eyes lit up in that epiphany sort of way.

"No. No you didn't. Not possible," she breathed. A smile was creeping onto her face and I hated it. "You've someone else, don't you? And you, of all people," she looked just as stunned as she had been by Crusoe, but I was even more embarrassed and flustered this time. I turned my face from her so she wouldn't see my panic. "I don't believe it."

"Then don't, because that's not what I was going to say, Quinn," I tried, my desperate damage control seemingly ineffective.

"Come Santana, you can trust me. Who is it? Is he handsome?" I felt heat rising in my cheeks at her questions and I sat up quickly under the premise of searching for Crusoe. He was settled on the rug by the fire, quite content. I cursed myself for my idiot tongue and turned my back to Quinn.

"Stop, will you?" I said, not quite achieving the forceful tone I'd wanted to. "There's no man." I wasn't lying, either. Thank God for equivocation.

"How did you meet?" She pressed on, undeterred by my unwillingness to speak. Once she'd caught the scent of a secret, she wouldn't stop until she'd hunted it down. And she'd never stood for me keeping things from her. We were close enough that I trusted her with anything – anything except this.

Despite everything, my mind filled with images from that night, the first time I ever laid eyes upon Brittany. Only now, the memories were more beautiful, tinted by untameable feelings and stolen kisses.

Quinn's voice was quieter next she spoke. "You're in love, Santana," she breathed, awed. My heart raced and my instincts were just as fast.

"Stop, Quinn. I've told you, I'm in love with no man." Somehow I remained truthful, not wanting to say that I wasn't in love. It didn't feel fair to lie about it, not to Brittany nor to myself. She didn't even know, but I felt as though if I said it I would be betraying us. It was silly and I scowled at myself.

She eyed me sceptically for a minute before speaking again. "What a shame that is," she finally said, her eyes darting between my fiddling hands and my face. She knew something was wrong. Hell, she knew I was lying. I was a fool.

"And I don't want to be," I added for good measure, trying to patch up the tear I'd created in the atmosphere. "It only makes things harder." I ignored the truth of my statement. "But Quinn, if this man's everything you say he is, then I suppose I'm happy for you. I can't help but feel that you'll be happy in time." I moved back to her, taking her hands and covering them with my own. She smiled at me and pulled me into a hug, which I returned fiercely. I missed Quinn. I did. I wasn't sure what had happened to us; there was a time when every other day was spent together. It didn't mean I cared for her any less. I didn't know what it meant.

"One more thing," she said softly as she pulled back. I looked at her expectantly; I was ready for anything she could throw at me considering today's events. "The house is in London." Her admission silenced me and we stared at one another for a while. I wasn't sure what to say.

"That's great, really Quinn. You're moving up in the world," I said, trying to sound as supportive as possible but inside feeling like I was losing the one friend I could count on in every way it was possible to lose someone. "I'm happy for you as long as you're happy for you," I assured her. And I would be. There was nothing more I could do.

"Thank you so much, San," she said, the slightest hint of tears in her wavering voice. She pulled me into another hug and when she let go, moved over to the fire and wiped her eyes. "And for the record, Crusoe is adorable. However, I think he'll need to do some more exploring to live up to his name," she laughed. I picked him up and held him out to her, offering her a turn to hold him. She shook her head and backed away. "Goodness, no, I couldn't hold him. Who knows where that thing's been?"

I shrugged and snuggled him closer before putting him back down on the rug. Quinn looked at me, a heavy tiredness in her eyes. "I should go," she said. "My parents are expecting me. Do promise to visit, S," she demanded, and I nodded because I knew that I would. If Quinn needed me, I'd be there as soon as I could be.

"I will," I promised, and she headed out the door with me following. "I'll see you soon, all right?" I said as we reached the front entrance. She smiled and left, beginning her walk back to town. I watched her go for a minute before turning back inside and to my room where I found Crusoe sniffing around the legs of my stool. I settled myself by the fireplace with a book and watched him hop around the room inquisitively.

I must have lost track of time, because what seemed not an hour later there was a knock on my door. "Yes?" I called, looking up from my book. The door opened and Peter's head poked around the corner, his eyes searching until they found me.

"Tana, there's a letter for you," he said, holding out a lavender coloured envelope to me as he moved into the room. I took it, trying to keep his attention as I realised that Crusoe was in fact still roaming the room.

'Thank you, Pete. Any idea who it's from?" I asked, turning the envelope over. There was no return address. He cleared his throat.

"That was the other thing. I saw Lady Pierce in the village today," he said, pausing to gauge my reaction. I tried not to let anything show on my face; I prayed that it worked. "She asked me to give that letter to you. Enjoy," he said, already leaving the room. I was left rather surprised and a little worried.

I looked down to the envelope, noticing the curly script that formed my name on the front in neat lettering. I felt the tingles inside of me in anticipation of her letter. I hadn't spoken to her in person for a few days because my mother had been rather serious about her rules. I was ready to run away for real this time, but I knew I'd never do it without Brittany. I carefully unsealed the wax stamp, into which was pressed a unicorn's head, and slipped out a piece of paper. It smelled like her perfume, but I was beginning to wonder if she even used perfume or if it was indeed her natural scent. I didn't care, because it evoked feelings only she could within me. I knew it was ridiculous, but my heart was a force to be reckoned with so I paid my rational mind no heed as I impatiently opened the letter, my eyes drawn to the top of the page where she addressed me in her fluid writing.

_Dearest Santana,_

_I know that we've not been able to see one another for the past few days, and I miss you terribly. I missed you the moment you left and it's only become worse with each passing day. Your brother told me what happened; I feel so guilty for letting things fall this way. You're quite honestly all I think about and it should scare me, but it doesn't. You're the strongest, bravest person I've ever met and I know that you'll find a way out of the situation. I promise to do anything I can to help and ensure that I can keep you. I can't lose you, Santana, not now that I have you. For now, our clandestine meetings will have to suffice._

_Meet me by the gate of Marchess the morn after you receive this letter. Until then, remember that whenever you should think of me, I am undoubtedly thinking of you too._

_With all my heart,_

_Brittany_

I had to squeeze my eyes closed to prevent any unwanted tears from escaping past my eyelashes. I held the paper close to my heart, my thoughts miles away, and sighed with a weight that I felt was dragging me down into a depression. I felt shackled, as though there was no escape from the place I had found myself in. Every thought, every movement, became a chore that made me want to stop thinking and moving. But I knew none of that mattered because everything paled in significance to _her_. I knew she'd keep her promises, and I'd keep mine.

I wasn't sure what she had planned, but I would have gone even if she'd told me to meet her in a pit crawling with snakes. I felt a soft nudge at my side and looked down to see Crusoe curled up against me. His eyes were closed and he looked about as content as I felt worried. He was sleeping like a… well, I suppose like a rabbit. I gave him a soft pat before looking over the letter again.

She'd formed each letter so carefully, each stroke practised and refined. I she'd misspelled a few words, but I forgave her that because the meaning was so much more important. My heart fluttered as I read over '_with all my heart'._ I dared to believe for a moment that she might love me too, the way I was in love with her.

I was suddenly anticipating tomorrow with an excitement that I hadn't felt since last we met. The past few days had dragged on endlessly with not a single thing to do save for wander outside and read. I'd begun to teach myself German on the off chance that my mother would attempt to betroth me to a man from the continent. Berlin was quite a capital, if you asked her. Scheiße.

I got up, careful not to wake Crusoe, and grabbed a pillow from the bed to bring back to the rug by the fire. I lay down by him again; his tiny was body tucked against mine, this time comfortably as I let the heat from the coals warm me. I felt the drowsiness that had been following me around for the last few days overcome me, and I succumbed to some much-needed sleep.

I woke with a start a while later, a tapping on my shoulder pulling me from my dreamy haze. Peter's head was hovering over me, an amused glint in his eyes.

"Tired?" He asked, his tone mocking but still concerned. I must have looked a right mess, curled up on the floor, with a rabbit nonetheless. _Oh, fuck. _I quickly looked down to where he had been curled into my side earlier, but His Fluffiness wasn't there. I was relieved and panicked all at once until I spotted him hiding just under the bed thanks to my vantage point. _Thank goodness you've a brain, Crusoe. Stay there._ He just wiggled his nose at me again.

By the time I was finished mentally speaking with a rabbit, my brother looked even more amused than he had been earlier.

"I did warn Mama that you'd go stir crazy. It would seem that it's beginning already," he quipped and I swatted at him, hauling myself up from the carpet to check the now dwindling fire.

"Is there a reason you woke me up?" I asked, a little on edge. Naps were wonderful until you woke up.

"Yes," he answered, a tad less humorous. "Dinner will be served soon. Mama sent me to fetch you. Ten minutes, all right? I'll see you down there." My eyes kept flicking between him and the creature under my bed, wondering if perhaps it would be best to let Peter know. Maybe he could help, because I wasn't sure what I'd gotten myself into, exactly.

"Pete, uh—" I began, but I couldn't say anything more. "Thank you. I shall see you downstairs." I placed my hand on his arm briefly before he nodded at me and left the room again. I turned to crouch down beside the bed in search of Crusoe.

"Crusoe? Come here," I beckoned, reaching under the bed and dragging him out. He just twitched his ears and looked straight ahead.

"I'm sorry, bud. I just don't think the rest of the people who live here'd receive you so well as I have. For God's sake; I don't even know what brief moment of brainlessness made me bring you inside. You'll just have to keep hiding, okay? I promise to take you outside every day." I petted his head and placed him back on the floorboards and he merely moved back to his place by the fire. I stoked it for him and placed another log on before heading downstairs.

Dinner had become a rather unpleasant affair for the lot of us since the night that my mother had given me the ultimatum. Tensions had risen and you could have cut the thick air with the huge carving knife sitting before me.

Papa always tried to start a conversation, but somehow it always managed to terminate once it reached a topic concerning either Mama or myself. She liked to pretend that I didn't exist, that somehow I wasn't her daughter unless I was to become a wife as well. It was horrid and I hated that she was doing this; not only because I wanted to escape marriage but also because I wanted to piece back together whatever dregs of our relationship were left. I only had one mother, but the role was wasted on her as things stood. She didn't look at me when I was looking at her, but I could feel her eyes whenever my attention was elsewhere.

My thoughts returned frequently to the letter that I had tucked into the front of my dress seeing as I was pocket-less. I didn't dare leave it lying around to be found by snooping persons, namely the lesser of my brothers. Her words brought a smile to my face and I wished to feel again what it was to have her pressed against me. Was it so wrong to crave her nearness?

A light blush settled upon my cheeks and I thanked whoever was up there for my darker complexion.

"So, Santana," my father started, clearing his throat, obviously as sick of the tense atmosphere around us as I was. I looked up from my dinner where I had been desperately trying to cut through a particularly tough section of meat. _Ruddy stubborn pig_. I decided to push it aside and gave my attention to the head of the table.

Papa continued. "I was speaking to Lord Fabray earlier. I hear that Quinn is to be married." I almost coughed up my dinner, having temporarily forgotten that rather large titbit. My Mama's eyes darted to me at my reaction. _Of all the things to have a conversation about, this is what he brings up? _I thought bitterly.

"So I heard," I said nonchalantly. I'd give Mama nothing more.

"I wonder how long before the rest of your friends find themselves married too?" Mama chipped in. I looked back down at my plate. I could feel the meaning behind her statement. _How long before you'll be married?_

I head a whisper of 'what friends' from down Morys' end of the table but decidedly ignored him. Pete was giving me worried looks as I silently fumed.

"I think I'm finished here," I said curtly as I stood. I left the room and went to collapse in a heap on the lounge, burying my face in the cushions I found there.

"Santana," I heard from nearby, "you really must consider what I've said." It was Mama again. I was not in the mood to deal with her; I simply wanted to sleep away the hours 'til I could see Brittany.

I groaned into the plush fabric, unwilling to give her my time or my emotions. However, she was as persistent as ever. "Santana. Please look at me and hear what I have to say." I could feel her unmoving presence and decided that the only way this was ever going to end was if I were to do what she asked. Not everything she asked, however. Once I was at least sitting up but still refusing to meet her eye, she began her speech.

"I realise that you may consider what I've done harsher than is necessary," she said carefully. I eyed her with an incredulous look on my face, as if to say, _Really? You don't say._ She rolled her eyes in that infamous Lopez way and continued. "But what you need to understand that your father and I _do_ have your best interests at heart and always have." I was _so_ unprepared to accept an apology in this form. "You might roll your eyes and even ignore all of this, but I need you to hear me. I just want you to… _we_ just want you to be safe. We _all_ do. I know your brothers care too. Your security is at stake here, and if you don't find yourself a stable life before it's too late then I don't know what I'll do."

Her eyes were pleading and I felt something inside of me tugging, hurting me in ways I didn't know I could still be hurt. I thought I'd cut those ties so long ago that I was scared to find there was still something buried inside me that had wanted nothing but motherly concern for all these years.

I looked back out to the darkness outside so that I wouldn't have to meet her eyes again. Nothing she said would make me any happier about any of this, but something in me wanted to believe what she was saying. It made me feel weak, but if ever there were a day that things were to change between us for the better, perhaps I wouldn't mind that weakness. Until then, my heart was as corrupt as hers for even thinking such things.

"I don't want to hear it, Mama. I don't' want your _help_. My life should be none of your concern; not now that I'm old enough to make choices on my own." I growled.

"I know, Santana. But what you don't understand here is that it's my duty as a mother to make sure you're safe and happy." I wheeled on her, ready to explode with the resentment that was bottled up inside of me.

"What do _you_ know about motherly duties? You don't give a shit whether I'm happy or not! Admit it, Mama. You want me gone. You want me out because I'm not the daughter you wanted. Well I've news for you. I'm the only one you've got, but you've certainly botched up somewhere, now haven't you?" I felt the hate in my voice, but my eyes weren't full of the same loathing. They were heartbroken.

"Don't say such things!" Her voice was raised and her expression mirrored mine. "I've done nothing but love you and you repay me with this? You can't live like this forever, Santana. You have to realise that someday, and it'll be soon, life will come flying at you and you'll have nothing to fall back on when it knocks you down. I worry for you. You have to see that, please," she said sadly. My heart ached to believe what she was saying, to believe that she cared. But I was scarred from years of battle and the feelings got stuck in my throat, left to boil in my core. All that slipped forth was hostility.

"Mama, you've never been that to me. You left me to a governess and you sent me to bed every night without so much as a 'sweet dreams'. I cannot even remember the last time you told me you loved me. You never gave me that. So you know what? You don't get to make these decisions for me! Marriage doesn't give you love; love should give marriage if anything." My heart was running at full bore and my head was pounding with the fire of anger, anger that was surging through my veins and obliterating every rational thought.

"I love you, Santana, I do. I always have. Hear what I'm saying, sweetie. I tried so hard, Santana," she implored me to believe her.

I closed my eyes briefly before turning my icy gaze on her. "I _hate_ you Mama. With _every_ _fibre_ of my being. And I won't stop until you show me that I don't have to." I felt something turn inside of me as the words left my mouth, laced with a venom even I didn't know I possessed. Mama's hand came slowly up to her mouth and her eyes went wide. She stepped back from me and I saw movement by the doorway out of the corner of my eye, but nothing in that moment could tear my eyes from the tear that slipped down Mama's pale cheek. Another followed it, and another. Her tears dropped from her desolate eyes, which didn't leave mine once.

There's something infinitely sad and terrifying about seeing your mother cry. Never in my whole life had I seen a single tear fall from her cold eyes until that moment, and I never, ever wanted to see it again. My heart ripped in two as I watched all hope drain from her eyes in liquid trails. The part of me that had wanted to believe her so badly now had no doubt that every word she had spoken was truth. I felt sick. So I did the only thing I knew how to do – I ran.

I didn't dare look back. I flew up the stairs and flung my door open, my eyes scanning quickly for the bundle of fluff that was my only unwitting ally. I picked him up from the rug where he was still resting as though nothing had happened. My eyes pricked with the salty sting of tears but none fell. Crusoe tucked into me, I rushed back downstairs and out into the night.

The sky was black, not a single star visible behind the layer of clouds. The tiniest sliver of moonlight was peeking out and I used it to see what little I could as I ran across the fields. Crusoe was shaking and I only held him tighter. I ran until my legs wouldn't move any further, collapsing carefully so I wouldn't hurt the furry ball in my arms. The wind had stung my eyes, making them watery and painful. My hair fell around my shoulders messily and my breathing was heavy. I waited for everything to stop spinning before letting a single tear drop onto Crusoe's pelt. He was shivering and I regretted bringing him out.

"I'm so sorry," I cried into his fur, not quite sure to whom I was speaking. I was stupid. I was cruel and cold. But worst of all, I was a coward; a coward who wouldn't look fear in the eye and who wouldn't let people see the love trapped in her heart, no matter how much she wanted to.

It was a vicious cycle that I couldn't seem to get out of. There was no way I could go back inside now; I was too ashamed to face any of my family. As my anger dissipated, all that was left was a gaping hole, an emptiness. I didn't know how late it was, but it could only be a few hours before Brittany would be at the gate. I wasn't sure what time of morning she had meant but if I waited there then she would come eventually. I would stay up until she came and saved me from myself.

Using the tiny bit of light that was available to me, I traversed the dark fields back up to the well lit house but bypassed it in favour of the drive. I made certain to stay in the shadows so no one would see me and come out to get me. The last thing I wanted was another confrontation.

I wanted Brittany to hold me and tell me that everything would be okay, but she wasn't here. Mama didn't want her here. If only things had never become so complicated, and she was merely someone that Mama wished I'd see more of, a social stepping-stone unequalled in Devonshire. I had never thought of her as so and I didn't wish anyone would ever think so little of Brittany, but it was better than what Mama thought of us now. _A distraction,_ I thought bitterly of Mama's words. Well, it was certainly one most welcome.

I made it all the way to the gate without so much as tripping, rather a record in my state. I had managed to stop by the gardens on the way and picked a few carrots for Crusoe because surely he wanted more than grass to eat. If I couldn't be happy, then at least he could. I wondered if all animals were so easily swayed into companionship and compliance. I didn't think so; I'd had enough experiences with the wilder side of nature to know that Crusoe was different. For that I was thankful. Having someone who'd stay by me without asking questions was rather nice, even if it was a rabbit.

I slid down against one of the large pillars that supported the gate on either side, curling my knees up to my chest. Crusoe was snuggled against me for warmth and I gave him one of the carrots, which he began nibbling at right away.

I looked up into the black sky with tears in my eyes. "How did things get to be this bad, Crusoe?" I asked, despondent. I was so far away, up in the sky and beyond the clouds in search of the elusive stars beyond. The dark sea seethed above me with no answers, only more questions. I was about ready to give up.

As the time passed, my eyes became heavier and heavier, but I had to stay awake. I had to see Brittany as soon as possible and hide in case anyone came looking for me. I doubted they would until morning, though.

There came a time when I couldn't tell if the darkness was around me or whether my eyes were closed. Crusoe had long since gone quiet and I hadn't moved for what felt like eternity. Every part of me was tired, and when I told myself to stay awake my eyes just closed themselves again.

_Just a half hour, _I conceded. _Then I'll wake up again and wait._ Nodding in agreement with myself, I let myself slip into sleep for the second time that day.

A soft touch pressed against my forehead, then again on my cheek. It was pulling at the edges of my consciousness, my mind languidly awakening from its exhaustion as it registered the sensation somewhere deep inside. Another gentle pressure, this time at the corner of my mouth as I tried to drag my heavy eyelids open, slowly letting the light in. I blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the sleepy feeling.

"Good morning," came a soft voice from in front of me. At that, a warm, contented smile grew on my lips. Opening my eyes fully once more, I focused on her.

"Good morning," I replied fondly, nothing but the woman sitting before me even beginning to cross my mind. Brittany leaned in again, this time placing a tender, careful kiss on my lips. I breathed in sharply, remembering her taste and how she felt against me. I leaned into her as she pulled back, bringing my hand up to cup the side of her face. She turned her head to press her lips against my palm and I stroked my thumb along her cheek. We sat like that for a moment, just watching one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. "What a lovely way to be woken up," I said, the exhaustion and pain washing out of my body. As long as she was here, everything would be okay.

"Mmm, what a lovely way to wake someone up," she countered, her eyes shining happily. "If you don't mind my asking, though, why were you asleep out here?" She asked. I hesitated, the events of the previous night still achingly real. I cast my eyes down from her face, not wanting to spoil this moment. I just wanted her, without all the drama and the hurt.

"I was waiting for you," I said lazily by way of explanation, and she gave me a look that told me she'd accepted the half-hearted answer I'd given her. My knees were still curled up to my chest and I unfurled them into the grass, stretching my stiff muscles. I looked back up and she was simply watching me, an unreadably soft expression on her face. "What is it?" I asked.

"I missed you," she said, the truth evident in her admission. I wondered how long she had been here, waiting for me to wake up. I cursed myself for not having had the determination to stay awake.

Brittany took my hand and held it to her lips. "Not as much as I missed you," I teased quietly, watching as she raised an eyebrow in challenge. I smiled wider and leaned in to press an affectionate kiss against her cheek as she had done to me, trailing my mouth along her jaw until I reached her mouth. She captured my lips in a searing kiss that said '_I miss you_' louder than any words could have. I brought my hands up to her face and leaned my body further over hers, pushing her back ever so slightly. I barely broke the kiss to breathe, sharing the air with her as I did so. Her arms wound around my middle and any regard for where we were or what we were doing flew right out the metaphorical window.

The more I had of her, the more I wanted. I felt like we'd been doing this for a lifetime and I'd known her even longer. It felt so _right_.

"My new favourite thing to do," she whispered against my mouth, smiling into the kiss.

I shook my head for her to be quiet, making sure she knew what I wanted by pressing my lips back against her own. Gradually, she moved further and further backwards until her back was against the ground and my front was almost fully pressed against her own. My skin was flushed and my head was spinning wonderfully.

The kiss became slower before she broke it off and opened her eyes to gaze up at me, tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear. I leaned into her touch and she gently kissed the tip of my nose. Our breathing returned to normal; well, as normal as possible considering I was lying on top of her. I felt my cheeks heat at the thought, but if she didn't mind then neither did I. She was as soft and warm as I remembered, if not more so in contrast to the itchy grass.

In that moment, more than any other, I wanted to tell her that I loved her. I willed the words from my mouth, but I just couldn't say them. My cowardice crippled me into silence. So many times in the past few days had my mind tried to convince my heart that the whole thing was some sort of foolish infatuation, and that in a few weeks I'd be bored. I refused to believe that, no matter how much safer it may have been for the both of us. No one had ever gotten anywhere by being safe, I reminded myself. And I had oh-so-many places I still wanted to go, every one of them with her.

"You do realise that now you're here, I can never let you leave," I said seriously. I knew for a fact that parting from her now would most likely cause me physical pain but I was hoping against hope that she'd stay, for whatever reason. Perhaps I could make one up.

"I'd never wish to," she answered. She pressed a chaste kiss to my lips and I leaned my forehead against hers, our breaths mingling in the barely-existent space between our mouths.

I moved so I was instead lying by her side, my arm over her waist and my head in the crook of her shoulder. She pulled me close and the grass rose up around us, a shield against anything that might dare oppose us. There was a rustling somewhere nearby and my head shot up. My heart immediately began racing at the thought of someone else having seen and heard any of what had passed between us. I saw no one, however, it did little to slow my pulse until I felt a soft nudge on my hand.

"Crusoe," I sighed, placing a hand over my heart. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath then picked up the small rabbit and scratched between his ears. "You scared the living daylights out of me," I scolded him.

A look of light confusion passed over Brittany's face before her eyes lit up and she looked at me questioningly, as though asking permission. I nodded and smiled and she stroked down his back a couple of times.

"You have a rabbit?" She asked, obviously pleasantly surprised.

"I suppose I do, now. His name is Crusoe. Like the adventurer." He hopped out of my hands and sniffed around in the grass a little. "He seems to like me. Well, he probably he likes the luxury of life in my room." I wondered after all why he was staying here and not bounding off somewhere to be with his little rabbit friends.

"Just don't let Tubbington see him. He likes to bring me gifts. They're not very nice and we don't want Crusoe ending up as one of those gifts." She scrunched up her nose and I lay back down in the grass beside her.

She copied my position and we said nothing for a while. Crusoe was nibbling quietly on whatever he could find buried in the grass.

Brittany's soft voice broke the silence. "Did I ever tell you that Constance is going to have a baby?" She asked. I felt as though there was more to the question, but I just nodded after taking a second to place Constance as her older sister. She watched the clouds a moment more before continuing. "She's sick, San. What if the baby's sick too?" She sounded so worried and hurt that I turned onto my side to face her. She turned her head to look at me and I tried my best not to crumble at her expression. My mind jumped back to an image of an ill looking Duchess with a letter in hand.

"I'm sure they'll both be all right, Britt. Time and care is all it takes to get better." I hoped that what I was saying would be true. I had worked out that despite their different personalities, Brittany very much admired her sister. "There's nothing more for you to do that love her, Brittany. She'll need that; the baby too." She nodded in acceptance of my advice and let her eyelids flutter shut.

"How is it that you know everything?" She asked, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

I laughed and gave her a skeptical look. "Everything is a broad term," I said.

"That would be why I used it," she countered, her gaze not leaving mine once as she reached between us to find my hand. She closed both of her own around it. "Do you ever wish you could know the future?" She asked, her tone soft and thoughtful. The sudden shift in subject caught me a little of guard.

"See the future? I don't know that I'd want that. I prefer to worry about the now when it's the now and the future when it becomes the now. But to change the past is something I wish for every day," I answered seriously, hoping she would see my reasoning. She hadn't yet looked back up at me.

"Would you change this?" My eyes widened in realization of what she might have thought I meant. I was quick to place my other hand on top her hers and move closer to her.

"Never, Brittany. I would _never_ change this. Do not even begin to think that I would want this any other way, no matter what seems easier or better for either of us." I pulled her chin up to look at me. She had to know I was speaking more honestly than I had in a long time. "Do you understand what you've given me? I've never… I've never felt so close to anyone as I do to you." I felt my skin heat up, but hoped she wouldn't see my blush. Feelings had never been the easiest of subjects for me to broach; in fact, I'd have said it was the hardest. But she deserved to know.

"Not ever?" She asked, almost unbelieving.

"Not ever," I confirmed, swallowing my fears. "I don't know why, and I don't really care why, but I… I—" I stopped short as she pressed a kiss to my cheek, then to the corner of my lips.

"I know, San," she whispered. I never quite knew exactly what she meant when she said that, but it was nonetheless comforting. She was my safety. After a while, she decided to speak again. "Are you as scared as I am right now?" I processed her question before lifting my gaze back her hers.

"How scared is that?" She thought again and answered.

"Rather a lot." She squeezed my hand, which she was still holding tightly, and looked at me almost apologetically at her confession,

"Then yes, Britt. I am probably just as terrified, if not more so, than you are right now." I nodded in a business like manner and she giggled.

As her laughter died down I could feel the seriousness creeping back in. "I suppose we should talk about—" She began, but I placed a finger over her lips in panic before she could go any further.

"Not now," I pleaded. "Let us have this. Just this without needing to make it fit into any boxes. Please," I said, watching her eyes soften and feeling her arm around my waist, pulling me closer to her.

"Not now," she agreed, but I could feel that there were things left unsaid that she wanted to say. There were things that needed to be said, but I wasn't sure that I was ready to say them or to hear them.

I didn't know what this was and there would be questions I wouldn't answer. I threw it all in the too hard basket, but I knew that if I kept doing that then eventually that basket would become to hard for me to lift all at once. I didn't want to name this. I didn't want to give it rules and a place. I just wanted _us_.

"Thank you," I whispered against her collarbone, tucked into her. I could almost hear the sigh that I knew was waiting inside her, but she said nothing more. Her hand moved up and down my back soothingly and I felt myself wanting to sleep again. I wasn't going to let that happen, as wonderful as it sounded.

"Would you come inside with me? I need…" I trailed off as I realized that I hadn't told Brittany anything. She didn't need to know. I wouldn't put my problems onto her if I could help it.

"Need what?" She asked, curious.

_You. _I shook my head lightly and extricated myself from her hold. I held out my hand to her and she took it, pulling herself up form the grass and brushing her dress off. "I want you to stay. Mama won't concern herself with me today, so we'll be fine." I said no more on the matter, and neither did she. We fell into step beside one another once I had Crusoe safely tucked under my arm.

We managed to make our way inside and up to my room. Brittany busied herself with Crusoe, whom she seemed to have taken a liking to. "I'll be back in a moment, all right?" I said, slipping out the door without waiting for an answer.

I went to find Peter, and sure enough, there he was, surrounded my papers in his study. I knocked softly on the door and he motioned for me to enter.

"What is it, Santana?" His tone was brisk and I was surprised by the fact that he didn't look up from his work.

I opened and closed my mouth a couple of times before moving back toward the door. "I—I just wanted to tell you that…" I said, not really sure what I wanted to say anymore. I wasn't sure whether he was upset with work or upset with me. There was a good chance that it was the latter. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have bothered you," I said. He made no move to reply as I left the room, the door clicking shut behind me.

"Please don't hate me, Peter," I whispered between swallowing back my tears. I found Harrietta and told her that I'd best not be disturbed today. I was tired and intended on resting. She made no mention of anything but simply nodded and went back to wiping the piano of dust.

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the cold air that seemed to follow me about the house. I walked slowly back to my room, trying to pinpoint exactly when things had become so bad as this.

Brittany was still on the rug with Crusoe, but stood as soon as she saw me entering the room. I looked up at her and she was immediately concerned. "Santana? Is everything okay?" She asked tentatively.

"I don't think it is," I finally admitted. It felt terrible to say it aloud, and even worse to have to say it to Brittany. Everything was not all right, and I wasn't certain it was going to be. I pulled her to me and kissed her fervently, trying to hold onto the one person I knew I still had left. Even then, for how long? A single tear slipped down my cheek as I pulled her closer with a hand on each side of her face. She seemed startled but soon was returning the kiss with just as much impatience and urgency as I was. I needed to know that she was here and that she would stay here. "Don't go," I whispered.

She frowned and said, "I won't." Nothing in that moment could have stopped me from giving her anything and everything she wanted. I didn't even know _what_ she wanted but I'd have given it. I felt everything slip away into such insignificance that I almost missed the click of the latch on my door.


End file.
